






















r 

.♦jAWA.' » 

5; 





' ^0yly^ * • ^ * 

^ •' o H 0 ’ ^ ^O / 1 * ^ .0^ » Vo 

y ^ V O s * * * N 

*' <L ® • C.^ ^{S 


<^ ^O ♦ A ’» 0 v- 









» / “» 


' "^ov^ '^•^0^ : 

•J ^ ^ ri* ^ * ^L** O *■ ”*</»' ■» 

'V *'"’* ^ °<i> 

^ \ \ 4^ 

°^5fe,- i^^m\ 

%* WW* 

A <"^ "o.A’* ^ ^c> A 

. V / . r^ o « o * ^ < V u » . 

► ^ ' 

< 0^ 

» 


o 

X 

Q 





4 o 

r 

>^ ' . . O ’* .?,'^ o - . , , - ,. 

■^' \> .«*o, ^ . 0 ^ 


> 




o 

<y ^ 

(f -O 

“ ^ ^ ’■. 

V —V 



° 

• <l" 

O N o ^ 

V' '<^ aP' V \> ^ 

%A " "■ "' 





A^'’^J. o 

V ^ 


vA 




N -f S^dT/Z?2^ « '5^ 





o V 

.0*7- • * 4 O 

^0 -O^o’ ^ -O ♦.,, . 

' _A «. * Vw' -V"*^ V p’*®/c O 4 0^ % ^ 





'^J' A' 


vP S 






A-^ ^ ® 

^ o 

^ 'o * A '* --^ 

«■ ' » - . 

; . 

^ o « o ’ <}?<■ O ‘ • , V 

V .'i'i'. % ' 

^ jA A) '’ r y ♦• 



■* ■?- V 

/-\* 0^*0 

.^P5^- '^■-0^ f 

iT \\\VS^ > K> ^ z' ^ y / ! u-^ X 

,, V ^ = . 0 ’ y >,...' 






T < 




. ■ wwiJtV' ■ 

' • " ..ft 




■ ^ 

’ r ♦ -• N . * 


S ’?:'" 









4 





i'r 



11 


T,' 

















ii. 






A 7 . 

L** ^' * *,' . ^ • 





/ 

^ . 


^1 


* 

•- * » 


• y*>.^ 

' ' V w ‘ 


' ^ r’ ' 


-r » 



« t 


♦ * • ' t • . 


•* . \ 0 -;» - • •■'* ' ■ • ■ 

; , m: /■ ■ ■ 


f* 4 




t 


. < 


- ■ 7 • 

^ \ ’ ' '}\\S jJ^- 

: \ ^^ 

;»! W "^•■' " 

.' t . . * «! 


MlAfvt'ZvD 

i'.?*- '.A r 

■■■Hw i''--. .■ 

‘ifn- '’-.i ' ■ : V ■ 

T, I ' A ‘ 3 , • 


t fc* • « 

I ,7 




' .■.7, N 

\ .V^.' 

I 


I. 




t • 4 ■ ' '■ * ' 

?■ Sb, *' 7 ‘ •■» ■'■■ " 

• 7. ‘ ., 

'* ’l.' • -^ f • • . A. >-L . ■ . 1 

. fMir: r, 

/ . , ' ^ •■' . ^ i-' 


• , < ■* V 


y 




•. •[ 'r- 


' ' 


r • 




* . 


« 

<* 


•t -■ 








# ' 

:♦ • -< ; 


t 




•, ■ 'r- '.■ 


•> » 


s 

. •■', . \'V , 




> •' 

I* 


^ -a.--' ■ Jtl 

** ’•' ■» * ’ . * * 3* **■' * ^ ' ^^tT*T^C 


4 I 


•■ • S’ 

■ ' v,' * ‘S;. 

■ ' r ** . * . 

•i ■ . , 

i ■ ■ ^ ■ i, ^ 


f 

' , • « 


/ f* 


V 7'n ■ ^ 

. \'* ' » 


' ■ •>- 


f 

• s 


.» . ' ♦, 
.7 

< 


. \ 

i ' 


■ ','W' ^ i 


• • I 


. •^^ * * 1 ■ 

. ^ 'm .V- .* 5 



















t 


. 

* » 




t 


f 


« 


I 




9 




\ 


I 


t 


t 


t 



J 


\ 


I 


/ 


f 



# 


I 


I 




V 




I 





• « 




t 



♦ 




\ 



- 

y . 


. . C 


t 




1 


I 




I 


I 


I 






( • 


( 

i « 


I 




V f 


• t 


I • 

\ Jl’ / 

*• 

* I 



I ^ 

/ 


9 


i 


« 


» 


i 


* 


■ 




I 




I 




J 




“Poland shall be free.” 






ELIZABETH 


The Polish Exile 

A Story Founded on Fact 


Translated from the French of Madame 
Sophia Ristand Cottin 


CLARINDA M. COPE 

* 


THT 


1916 



Copyright, 1916 
BY 

CLARINDA M. COPE 




HAMMOND PRESS 
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE 

memory oe my sister marTha, 

WHO, BY HER gentle AND LOVING 
CARE, MADE SMOOTH THE PATH- 
WAY OE MY CHILDHOOD YEARS 



PREFACE 


HERE is less known of the history of 



Poland than that of any great na- 


tion. It is for this reason that I am 
giving an outline history of this country, be- 
lieving that it will be of interest to the reader 
at this time. 

In so short a space I can deal only with the 
important events of her long career; events 
which moulded her destiny and changed the 
map of Europe. 

I have tried to make clear the fundamental 
reasons for her early growth and prosperity, 
and the causes which led to her decline and 
fall. 

To Mr. N. L. Piotrowsky, authority on Po- 
lish history, I am indebted for some important 
points contained in the following sketch : 

From the tenth to the eighteenth century 
Poland existed as a great and powerful na- 
tion. 

From a simple agricultural people with a 
communal system of government, she had 
grown in the sixteenth century to be the great- 
est power of Eastern Europe. 


7 


8 


PREFACE 


In remote times Poland was made np of 
nmnerons petty suzerainties, each connected 
with the state, hut acknowledging no feudal 
superiority or feudal dependence. No Polish 
noble was the vassal of a superior lord ; even 
the retainer of every nobleman shared the 
political rights of his master. The meanest 
peasant had as full enjoyment of liberty as 
that accorded to the most distinguished sub- 
ject. And herein lies the fundamental differ- 
ence between the Polish constitution and those 
of the feudal states of the West and the 
despotism of the East. 

Poland had homogeneity of race, unity of 
language and unity of traditions. She had 
national unity. She had all the requisites 
with which to build and hold a permanent 
place among nations except one. She had 
no coast defense. The lack of a strong natu- 
ral boundary was the chief cause of her down- 
fall. 

For centuries she added to her territory 
and to her strength. 

The right of habeas corpus was granted to 
her in the twelfth century about the same time 
that it was granted in England. 

She had one of the first printing presses 
in Europe. After her union with the Grand 
Duchy of Lithuania in the sixteenth century 
she occupied more territory than that of any 
nation in Europe today except Russia. 


PREFACE 


9 


Cracow, which was made the capital in the 
fourteenth century, was celebrated for its 
beauty of architecture, its palaces and works 
of art. 

The university, built in 1364, had sixty-nine 
professors and fifteen hundred students an- 
nually. 

Her library contained one hundred and 
forty thousand volumes and numerous manu- 
scripts. 

Here were trained poets, sculptors, artists 
and scientists. This famous seat of learning 
attracted students from all parts of Europe. 

After the partition of Poland the castle, 
where kings were crowned, was turned into a 
barracks and hospital by the Austrians. 

In 1609 the capital was transferred to War- 
saw, a city of one hundred thousand inhabi- 
tants. 

This splendid city with its beautiful river, 
its ample commercial resources, universities, 
schools of medicine and art, and scientific so- 
cieties became the center of intellectual cul- 
ture. 

The university library, which was one of 
the largest in the world, was confiscated in 
1794 and transferred to Petersburg, where it 
became the nucleus of the present imperial 
library. This historical city was surrounded 
by villas, palaces and battlefields. 


10 


PREFACE 


Here was one of the most beautiful open- 
air theatres in the world, situated in a gar- 
den of seventeen acres, adorned with an arti- 
ficial lake, fountains, statues and flowers. The 
beautiful national costumes of the Polish 
peasants gave a brilliant coloring to all public 
gatherings. 

For more than a century Warsaw, the heart 
of the Polish nationality, was the football of 
the surrounding nations. 

In 1655 Charles Gustavus, King of Sweden, 
took the city ; in 1656 the Poles retook it. In 
1702 Charles the Twelfth took it and it was re- 
taken by Russia in the following year. The 
first partition was in 1772, the second parti- 
tion in 1793 and the third in 1795. In 1806 
Napoleon occupied Warsaw; in 1809 the Aus- 
trians took it ; in 1813 the Russians recovered 
it and have held it since that time. 

In the fifteenth century in the zenith of her 
power and glory, Poland sowed the seeds of 
her national decay. 

The nobles began to wrest special privileges 
from the crown. They demanded exemption 
from taxes and the exclusion of the royal fam- 
ily from all high offices, reserving them for 
themselves. 

The power of the King was circumscribed 
so that he became a mere puppet in their 
hands. 


THE POLISH EXILE 


11 


They appropriated all the land. The peas- 
ants and burghers were deprived of their com- 
munal possessions and became serfs. 

The monarchy degenerated into a military 
aristocracy and then into an oligarchy of the 
nobles. 

It was in 1454 that the great charter of 
the ‘‘rights and privileges of the nobility’’ 
was granted. Mischievous laws were enacted. 
It was declared by the General Diet that the 
decision of a measure should depend upon a 
unanimous vote instead of a majority. A 
single member or his deputy could annul the 
united resolution of all the rest of the assem- 
bly. This was called the ‘ ‘ liberum veto. ’ ’ The 
peculiar character of the ‘ ‘ liberum veto ’ ’ made 
it difficult to enact measures beneficial to the 
state. 

After the peasants and burghers were de- 
prived of their rights Poland had no middle 
class, her trade fell into the hands of Jews 
and Germans, and between them and the 
nobles there was no common bond of sympa- 
thy. They did not understand each other. 

Religious animosities were beginning to be 
aroused throughout Europe, and Poland did 
not escape. She was always tolerant with re- 
gard to religion. She did not believe in set- 
tling religious difficulties with the sword. 

The order of the Teutonic Knights began to 


12 


PREFACE 


send its missionaries through Poland. An 
attempt was made to convert Poland to the 
Lutheran doctrine and to the G-reek Catholic 
Church, but Poland as a nation had long since 
accepted the Roman Catholic faith. For cen- 
turies she was the bulwark of Christianity in 
Europe and the protector of Western civiliza- 
tion. 

It was against the breasts of Polish war- 
riors that the Turks and Tartars broke their 
lances until they were finally crushed by the 
great John Sobieski under the walls of Vienna. 

It was in the sixteenth century that Poland 
gave to the world Copernicus, one of its most 
illustrious astronomers, whose glory resound- 
ed through the world. 

The crown had become elective. While the 
diet was in session for the election of a king 
the gallant Sobieski, who had just returned 
from a successful war against the Turks, came 
into the diet and proposed the Prince of 
Conde. 

Some one shouted ‘‘Let a Pole rule over 
Poland.’^ 

The shout became universal, and Sobieski 
was elected by storm under the title of King 
John III. 

Under the reign of this monarch, 1674-96, 
there was a temporary return of national pros- 
perity, the confidence of the people was re- 


PlOA 


MitA J^fcobttadt 

f< U R L A H D 
« T«.«S 

• Roitinev 
,KOVhO 



MOSCOW 



t iA IWrlakrona . ll^% • «'‘o*»inry 

^ , ^kviuNA A Ni^ ^._/ 

A ■ ^ 5- • / r >V ( 

, 5<il)n*oso2l5cf #SwW«>K<l ^ ^ V 

W A. ^ ** s 


»&ec(^C| #bww^ii 

^All;,,«,u, ^5^ 

^eut$chCyliu..-*Jf *?C)n[pndt O 

\ . *‘**.*^ Bietosiok 


Xo«t!SO£N '‘'V'’S;:l\ . 


. LutSK^ 

,t; Af<nopol3 *. C 

✓'•w r.< >• 







A, 


.A, 

A- ' Vu 


‘t; 



• I 


i 

* 


if-- y . -' 

/ ^ -.■ . .M 


■ * < 



T.p -• 

m 


r 

r 


^ • * -V > m- 

TV- ;? v»*'" . . 


. k'. 


-.. ■ <■’ A , % wm 

•, •■■", ’ - I-S-: 



A. ■ / a -tV Jjff: .; - ,' 

* ' . r V' ■•- ■ ' 'V. J 

^ f'. ^ ^ ^ ‘"V ! • ^ ^ J* •.!'■ ^wv' 

V ^ tr* ‘j." .- * -= ■‘•v 




k 




>• 


(;>■; ■t’ TJ tT!.*- r'-Ts?.' : . , 

;*• '-■ ^ ■ . ■. ■' ; . s®tf. • .. .-■ -Yf.' a?^y' . 

-''yv; .• 

* ‘4 j • V* .. - -jt”*. 




^^^ 4 / ; V'-.-'Y'* .V..;.;. 

■ '^' ‘W’- ■■'"-• ■;■"■:;> ■•'/ -^Y ■SrTT'. ■■>££ 

.V ■■" •*' - > -,’ •>% . 

JSf i -,>»«■• • '•- Yj .v^'"”-. ■■ • ■ t - * tv"' ^ -* - 

•is ■ •'-■..*•>> '■“ 

.4^, VY- - • ". if 1^: . ■' 




>> , . 

’■ * • ^ ■’-^' _J ' * »• . . B 

a.'Wl'yO* ' iV *,'* - 

Y,? . V'jf 4 ,- ./-*• '*? ", 

-' - yy'y ' A''"" f "' -.-'‘■^f' ■', '• 

^ ' : . ■ ^- Y • •• S> • :,-■ 

- ■• i - • '■ "It. ■ ■ •*'• ■■■ ‘V’ 


« » a 

*: * 


,r 

a- 


’h 


iT.’. % t .:,-v ' ..., ■ .'., . 


vf 


• » 



**<% 



PREFACE 


13 


stored and there was a revival of the national 
spirit, but the kingly power was neutralized 
by the absurd ‘‘liberum veto.’’ The King 
wanted a large standing army which was 
needed to keep the Tartars and Mongols from 
overrunning Europe, but this and other im- 
portant wishes of the King were ignored and 
the measures vetoed. 

In 1683 these Mohammedan hordes, with an 
army of three hundred thousand men, in- 
vaded Germany and reached Vienna. With 
an army of seventy thousand soldiers the 
King met these Mohammedan forces and de- 
livered Vienna from their clutches. 

This was one of the greatest military 
achievements of the century. 

The autocracy of the nobles prevented much 
needed reforms which otherwise would have 
been granted to the people during this reign. 
The King was constantly thwarted, and dis- 
appointed in his attempts. He could do noth- 
ing to awaken them to the dangers about them 
and the importance of preparing for national 
defense. 

With his death the glory of Poland began 
to wane. In another century her sun had set. 

During the eighteenth century Poland had 
intervals of peace and prosperity, but she was 
gradually losing strong^. National spirit and 
national unity were lacking. On the eve of a 


14 


PREFACE 


great crisis she had a weak King to wield the 
scepter. Fibers of strength she still possessed, 
but they were woven together by flimsy 
threads, by false ideals of liberty. 

She had not deemed it necessary to keep a 
large standing army to protect her borders. 
Her impractical constitution put her to a dis- 
advantage. 

During the reign of the last Polish King, 
(Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski) 1764-1794, 
the ‘‘liberum veto’^ was abolished, but through 
Russian influence was restored; the ruin of 
Poland had been resolved upon and the coun- 
try was already drifting into the hands of her 
enemies. 

Russian troops laid siege to the capital of 
Warsaw. The King entered into a humiliating 
peace by yielding a portion of her territory. 

The people, maddened by the national dis- 
honor, arose in arms, under the leadership of 
Kosciusko. With an army of fifteen thousand 
men he met the combined forces of Catharine 
of Russia, Frederick the Great of Prussia, and 
Joseph, Emperor of Germany, who, like hun- 
gry wolves, sought to destroy her, that they 
might add to their own empires. Overcome by 
superior numbers and their leader wounded, 
Poland was forced to surrender. Each con- 
quering nation took a share of the spoils. 

In 1895 Poland as an independent nation 
ceased to exist. 


PREFACE 


15 


Thirty-five millions of people were left with- 
out a country they could call their own. 

America has cause to bless the name of Po- 
land. Some of her greatest Generals have 
fought in our own wars. 

The names of Pulaski, Kosciusko, and So- 
bieski are familiar to all. 

At the foot of the blood dripping altar of 
patriotism, Poland lies bleeding today ; crushed 
and devastated, with property losses amount- 
ing to five hundred millions, fifteen hundred 
villages destroyed, and her women and chil- 
dren crying for bread. 

The most tragic thing in the bloody conflict 
now raging in Europe is the position of the 
Polish soldiers. 

Drafted into the army both in Kussia and 
Germany, they are forced to meet, on the field 
of battle, Pole against Pole. 

Czar Nicholas has promised those under his 
dominion that after the war ‘ ‘ Poland shall be 
bom again free in her language, her religion 
and her autonomy.’^ 

Russia lighted her torch of liberty ten years 
ago, when she established the duma. 

The most bureaucratic government in the 
world is merging into the freedom of democ- 
racy. 

In the Russia of today there exists a com- 
mon fellowship such as in her past she has 
never dreamed. 


16 


PREFACE 


All racial differences and enmities are lost 
sight of; bound together by common sorrows 
and mutual interests, her soldiers stand side 
by side on the field of battle, meet as brothers 
for the first time in the nation ^s history. 

The civilized world is watching and waiting 
to know her doom; are giving their sympathy, 
their prayers and their tears, hoping that she 
may soon see the light of the new day. 


ELIZABETH 

THE POLISH EXILE 


CHAPTER I 

I N the northern part of Siberia are im- 
mense forests which extend nearly to the 
frozen sea. In this region are some moun- 
tains entirely barren, being covered with eter- 
nal snows. There are uncultivated plains 
where the earth never thaws a foot. The sad 
streams run through no meadows and see no 
blooming flowers. 

Advancing toward the pole the cedar and 
flr and all large trees disappear. Some bend- 
ing, creeping larch and birch, dwarfed by the 
severe climate, are the only ornaments which 
nature supplies to this desolate country. 

Some marshes show a mossy covering as if 
nature sought to give expression to her ex- 
piring efforts, then suddenly all traces of vege- 
tation disappear ; yet in this scene of an eternal 
winter nature furnishes a magnificent display 
of aurora lights, frequent and majestic, un- 
17 


2 


18 


ELIZABETH 


known to the people of the south. This me> 
teoric phenomenon sometimes appears in the 
form of luminous clouds or arches, and again 
in wavy, shifting pillars of light reaching from 
the zenith to the horizon. 

At the south of this frigid country is the 
circle of Ishim. Its surroundings are gloomy 
like its sunshine and melancholy like its cli- 
mate. However, this region is called the Italy 
of Siberia because it has some warm days and 
the winter lasts but eight months. 

When summer comes it is wonderful the 
speed witb. which the trees are covered with 
leaves and the plains with verdure ; one can 
almost hear her advance so swift is her on- 
ward march. 

In a few days she has awakened with her 
caresses all Nature’s children. The buds of 
the trees burst into leaf and bloom, the flowers, 
laden with beauty, creep from their slumber- 
ing beds, and the breezes answer back to the 
notes of bird and insect. The birch trees ex- 
hale a sweet fragrance like that of the rose; 
spotted ducks, storks and wild geese appear 
on the lakes, the white crane plunges into the 
marshes and makes its nest in the solitary 
reeds; the squirrel, fox, hare, otter, sable, er- 
mine, elk and other animals return from their 
winter’s sojourn or emerge from their retreats 
in the forest ; the birds come back to their sum- 


THE POLISH EXILE 


19 


mer quarters and begin their merry carols; 
and thus there are some happy days for these 
animate creatures which live in this desolate 
country. But for the exiles there are none. 

In the government of Tobolsk, near the vil- 
lage of Saimki, in a forest, marshy and full of 
plashes of water on the shore of a circular 
lake, there lived early in the nineteenth cen- 
tury a family of exiles consisting of three per- 
sons : a man about forty-five, a wife still young 
in appearance and a daughter in the early 
freshness and bloom of youth. Except a poor 
Tartar country woman who served them, no 
one could enter their cottage, none knew their 
native country, their birth or cause of their 
banishment. The Governor of Tobolsk alone 
knew their secret. In placing these exiles 
under the care of his lieutenant established 
at Saimki he had given orders that they be 
permitted no freedom of outside communica- 
tion and, above all, to intercept all letters ad- 
dressed to the court of Russia. 

The man was given the name of Peter 
Springer. The cruel severity toward this 
j exile gave suspicion that this simple name 
1 concealed some great injustice and perhaps 
I the identity of a man as illustrious as he was 
1 unfortunate. 

j Occasionaly a traveler or hunter wandering 
i, in the neighborhood observed a man with dark. 


20 


ELIZABETH 


piercing eyes, dark complexion and hair, with 
a general appearance half military, half royal ; 
a brow furrowed by thought; an expression 
steadfast, silent and sad. And the stranger 
knew him for an exile. 

Peter Springer built for himself and family 
a house of firwood and birch bark close by a 
mass of granite rocks which protected them 
from the sudden gusts of the north winds and 
the inundations of the lake, and these rocks 
also reflected the heat of the sun in the early 
days of spring ; and in their clefts mushrooms 
sprang up, furnishing a substantial article of 
food. 

Through the forest trees one might observe 
some heaths covered with tombs, the burial 
place of an ancient colony. These tombs had 
been plundered and the bones of the dead lay 
scattered round about. All knowledge of this 
colony would have remained in oblivion had 
not the jewels buried with them revealed their 
identity. At the east of the heath or plain 
a small wooden chapel had been erected by 
some Christians. Next to this chapel the tombs 
had been respected. Before the cross, which 
recalls all the virtues of man, they dared not 
profane the dead. 

It was on these heaths that Peter Springer 
spent his mornings in hunting. Here the elk, 
marten, sable, ermine and other animals 


THE POLISH EXILE 


21 


roamed at large. In exchange for the fur he 
was able to procure from Tobolsk some neces- 
sary articles for housekeeping and clothing 
and books for his daughter. 

When the snow melted away and the hot 
sun warmed the earth the family might be 
seen cultivating the soil. The small inclosure 
used for a garden was surrounded with a 
palisade of white and black elder, cornel tree 
and a species of birch esteemed in Siberia for 
its fragrant blossoms; the flower beds were 
bordered with shells by the hands of Eliza- 
beth. 

The strong winds bring to this region seeds 
of new species from the neighboring tracts. 
Thus are new varieties constantly struggling 
for existence. Springer made a collection of 
these flowers and protected them from the se- 
verities of winter. With their bloom he would 
decorate the brow of his daughter, saying: 
‘‘Like you, Elizabeth, these flowers grow and 
embellish in exile; they flourish in a foreign 
land. May your lot be more fortunate than 
theirs.” 

Except at times when he expressed to his 
wife and daughter tender and delicate affec- 
tions or was explaining the daily lesson, he 
was as silent as the grave. For hours he 
would sit on a bench in the garden or at the 
window overlooking the lake buried in pro- 


22 


ELIZABETH 


found thought. The caresses of his wife and 
daughter at such times rendered his sorrow 
more bitter. With intense feeling he would ask 
his wife to take Elizabeth away, the distress 
was too great to bear, saying that he could 
be content if only his wife and child were free. 

The gentle Phedora so loved her husband 
that she could have found pleasure even in 
exile if he had not grieved so. 

Phedora, though past thirty, had retained 
the freshness and beauty of youth. Simplicity 
and grace of manner distinguished her as a 
woman of gentle birth and breeding. Her 
devotion to her husband and daughter taught 
her to anticipate their wishes in everything. 
Order and comfort reigned in their humble 
abode. The walls of the living room were dec- 
orated with drawings, the work of Elizabeth, 
and embroideries, the handiwork of Phedora. 
Elizabeth’s room was decorated with shells, 
lichens and mosses, and such novelties as she 
found in her forest wanderings. The kitchen 
which served as dining room was occupied by 
the Tartar peasant woman, the family servant 
and only attendant. 

Elizabeth and her mother made winter gar- 
ments, out of reindeer skin; cotton cloth pro- 
cured from Tobolsk was made up after the 
fashion of peasants for summer apparel, and 
thus the days passed from season to season. 



“For hours he would sit in the garden 










I 



# 





i 

t 


f 


> 



4 

4 

I 





« 


r 


% 


»• ,.^, »■.» 
•■-<■ • 


; . V ' 

■. * 


■i 





I 

4 


4 



IS 



V* '. * 

I 

4 

» , 


t 


4 


V 






V 



« 



? 


» 



i 


» 


♦ • 


k 




> 

% 


» 


« 


I 


4 


» 


4 


«| 


4 




J ' 




I i 


» «-4 

- ^ Jk • 

* I . - 



\ 


I 




t 


% 


t 


• » 


> 



■ 


< 



1 


I 


» I 




4 



f 


\ 




1 


I 


% 




9 





TEE POLISH EXILE 


23 


When Sunday came Phedora lamented that 
they were not permitted to attend church and 
spent much of the day in prayer. While pros- 
trate before the image of St. Basil she gained 
strength to bear with fortitude her own mis- 
fortunes and to console her husband. 

The young Elizabeth, knowing no other life, 
was contented and happy. She gathered flow- 
ers, climbed the rocks in search of eggs of the 
vulture and hawk ; she tamed the young wood 
pigeons by feeding and caressing them, and 
gathered from the shoals beautiful tinted 
shells which she used to decorate the garden 
borders. 

She knew no sister, no brother, no playmate, 
but the dwellers of the forest ; she had heard 
no music save the rustic melodies of the wood. 
When darkness came, and the winds sobbed in 
their passing or shrieked the miseries which 
they could not reveal, it sounded like music in 
her ears, for she did not know that she lived in 
the land of sighs. 

In the electric display of the aurora lights, 
and the dazzling beauty of the ice-coated forest 
she took delight ; but when she grew older she 
observed that her mother was often in tears 
and her father frequently sighed. When she 
questioned them about their past, they would 
reply that they regretted being so far from 
their native country. 


24 


ELIZABETH 


The name of that country, their rank, the 
cause of their isolation they withheld from her, 
fearing that it might cause her unhappiness. 

After the careless years of childhood had 
passed Elizabeth began to reflect on the possi- 
ble cause of her parents’ unhappiness. 

She had sometimes pressed them to tell her 
of their past lives, but they had avoided 
answering her questions. 

She sometimes overheard her mother ad- 
dress her father as Stanislaus. This was a 
familiar name in Polish history — the name of 
Poland ’s last King. In his teaching, her father 
had often dwelt with much intensity of feeling 
on the misfortunes of that nation. 

Her father she suspected was a Pole and 
the country for which he and her mother 
sighed was that of Poland. 

She determined to become more familiar 
with the history of this country that she might 
be able to unravel the mystery of her father’s 
exile and form some plan by which to set him 
free. 

This project became the controlling pur- 
pose of her life. She kept her secret, not 
wishing to disturb her parents until the time 
of her departure. 

She had resolved to go to Petersburg on foot 
and alone, if need be, to beg of the Emperor 
her father’s pardon. If she spent less time in 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


25 


wandering over familiar paths and the forest 
resounded less frequent with her voice than 
formerly it was because she was intent upon 
relieving the grief of her parents. 


CHAPTER II 


I T was the middle of May. Summer had 
returned. Elizabeth was now past six- 
teen years of age. Feeling that the time 
had come for her to act she repaired to her 
favorite haunt in the forest to form systematic 
plans for the execution of her enterprise. 
Here seated upon a rock, underneath a canopy 
of larch, pine and overhanging vines she 
studied her map, or read from books, seeking 
such information as she deemed necessary to 
guide her on her pilgrimage to Petersburg. 

She recognized impediments to her journey 
which must be overcome. She reflected that 
she had never passed the boundary of the dis- 
trict in which she lived. How could she travel 
over large stretches of territory, through for- 
est, bog and impassable streams without a 
guide. 

She would encounter people of unknown 
tongues and would each day be compelled to 
live upon the charity of strangers. Her father 
had spoken of mankind as inflexible. She 
dreaded the necessity of begging for charity. 
Elizabeth became convinced that it would 
26 


THE POLISH EXILE 


27 


be impossible to undertake the journey with- 
out a guide. 

Living in a forest separated from the rest 
of society and in a house interdicted to every 
human being, outside its inmates to whom 
could she apply for aid, what steps could she 
take toward furthering her project 1 

Only the listening silence heard her ques- 
tions and the breezes answered back in tremu- 
lous sighs. 

The shadows of night closed in the embellish- 
ments of the day and the stars kept vigil while 
the maiden in exile slept and dreamed of the 
morrow. 

The summer was passing and Elizabeth had 
not solved the difficulties which barred the way 
to the execution of her plans. 

She recalled the fact that some years before 
her father had come near meeting with a 
fatal accident while hunting bear among the 
rocks bordering on the Tobol, and that he had 
been rescued by a stranger. 

The young man was the son of M. de 
Smoloff, the Governor of Tobolsk, who came 
during the winter to the land of Ishim to 
hunt elk, sable and sometimes bear which are 
often found in the neighborhood of Saimki. 

In this chase he had encountered Springer 
in danger and saved him from what might 
have been a fatal accident. Since that time the 


28 


ELIZABETH 


name of M. de Smoloff was often mentioned 
in the home of the exiles. Elizabeth and her 
mother hoped at each return of the hunting 
season that some chance might give them op- 
portunity to assure him of their gratitude, 
but they had hoped in vain. Since Elizabeth 
had become convinced that aid was necessary 
in carrying out her plot, she had often thought 
of the young Smoloff, who could better ex- 
plain the details of the route from Saimki to 
Petersburg or advise the best way to deliver 
her petition to the Emperor; and should her 
flight offend the Governor of Tobolsk, who 
could better allay his anger or enlist his sym- 
pathy and prevent the punishment of her 
parents than his son? Thus did she recount 
all the advantages which might result from a 
meeting with M. de Smoloff, and she deter- 
mined not to permit the hunting season to pass 
without an effort to learn if he was in the 
country, and if so, to seek an opportunity to 
talk with him. 

During the summer months the thermome- 
ter in this region reaches ninety degrees, and 
the heat is almost incessant. 

Grain planted at the close of May is ripe 
by the end of August. Thus nature is prompt 
in her provisions for harvest as if conscious of 
the shortness of the season. 

In Siberia the winters are extremely cold, 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


29 


even in the southern part. This severity arises 
more from its geo^aphical structure than its 
latitude. The extensive plateaus of Central 
Asia prevent the moderating influences of the 
sea. The lowlands and elevated plains are 
exposed to the influence of the Arctic Ocean. 
The warm south winds have to cross the ele- 
vated plains of Persia where they deposit much 
of their moisture before reaching Siberia. If a 
current of warm air comes from the West it is 
felt only on the high lands. 

Winter lasts eight months ; trees are frozen 
to the heart ; rivers are frozen to the bottom ; 
the soil freezes many feet deep; the inhabi- 
tants And it necessary to wear a double thick- 
ness of fur indoors and an extra mantle of 
heavy fur on going out in order to resist the 
assaults of the weather. The storms often 
destroy whole herds of cattle, which are out 
of reach of shelter. Most wild animals go 
south for refuge during the winter months. 

A heavy fall of snow congealed into a solid 
mass had covered the earth when on a bright 
morning in December Springer took his gun 
and started on a hunting trip. He embraced 
his wife and daughter and promised to come 
home before the close of the day. Night came 
and he did not return. Since the adventure 
which came near costing him his life this was 
the flrst time he had failed to return at the 
appointed hour. 


30 ^ 


ELIZABETH 


The cold was extreme; the trees were en- 
cased in ice; the ground was as smooth as 
glass, but Elizabeth was accustomed to such 
weather and started out in search of her 
father. 

In a few minutes she had reached the plain, 
where all was silent and desolate. 

She heard the report of a gun, and ran in 
the direction from which the sound proceeded. 

She saw a man in a bending posture ap- 
parently searching for something on the 
ground. 

‘‘My father, my father, is it you?^’ she 
cried. 

The man turned hastily. It was not her 
father; she was frightened. 

The stranger wore a hunting suit, was 
young, and of pleasant address. He looked 
at her amazed and then gently said : 

“My child, are you alone 

‘ ‘ I am in search of my father, ’ ’ she replied. 
“Have you not seen him on the plain 

He inquired the name of her father. ‘ ‘ Peter 
Springer,’’ she answered. 

“What!” he exclaimed, “Are you his 
daughter? I have seen your father not an 
hour since. He must be home ere this. 

“You are in danger, child, here alone at this 
hour. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, I fear nothing but losing my father, ’ ’ 
she said. 


THE POLISH EXILE 


31 


Elizabeth hastened home not knowing until 
she arrived that the stranger had followed her. 

Springer immediately recognized him and 
presented him to his wife and daughter as 
M. de Smoloff, son of the Governor of Tobolsk. 

Phedora expressed great pleasure in the 
meeting, and thanked him most earnestly for 
the service he had rendered her husband while 
in danger on the rocks of the Tobol. 

‘^Many times since then,’^ she said, we 
have implored a blessing in your behalf. ^ ^ 

‘^Then your prayers have been answered,^' 
he responded, ‘ ' since I have been guided to this 
cottage. The act did not merit so great a 
recompense. ’ ’ 

Elizabeth was clothed in the style of a Rus- 
sian peasant. She wore a petticoat of scarlet 
cloth and a vest buttoned at one side which 
displayed her perfect form. Her shapely arm 
was exposed by her sleeve folded back from 
the wrist, and long dark curls hung over her 
shoulders. 

Her eyes were like her mother ^s, but her 
tall and stately form and general bearing were 
strikingly like that of her father. 

The charm of the picture did not escape the 
notice of Smoloff. He thought that he had 
never before seen such symmetry and unaf- 
fected beauty. 

Elizabeth was keenly interested in young 


32 


ELIZABETH 


Smoloff, but it was with the accompanying 
thought that he would be able to assist her in 
her project. This one object at present ex- 
cluded all others from her mind. 

‘ ‘ M. de Smoloff, ’ ’ said Springer, * 4t is late 
and the night is cold and dark ; but alas ! you 
know that I have not the liberty to invite you 
to remain with us over night,’’ 

Smoloff addressing Springer said, know 
what my father’s orders are, and the motives 
that compel him to use such severity, but on 
this occasion I am sure that he would release 
you from your promise. 

‘‘If you will permit me to remain, I will 
soon return to thank you for the protection 
you have given me. To return to Saimki to- 
night is not without danger, as the forest is 
infested with robbers, as you must know. ’ ’ 
Springer consented for him to remain and, 
seated beside him by a warm fire, they con- 
versed while the evening meal was being pre- 
pared. 

The devotion of the daughter to her parents 
was inexpressibly tender and earnest at all 
times; the mother less determined in manner 
made Elizabeth seem the stronger of the two. 

“M. de Smoloff,” said Springer, “you 
might think that such devotion should bring a 
father happiness even in exile, but I am con- 
stantly reminded of the great sacrifice which 
is the price they pay for their devotion to me. ’ ’ 


THE POLISH EXILE 


33 


‘ ^ My father, ’ ^ said Elizabeth, ‘ ‘ I have known 
only happiness here/’ ‘‘We do not feel onr 
life a privation,” replied Phedora, “so long 
as we may be with yon. As for Elizabeth, M. 
de Smoloff, you will not find a girl among all 
your acquaintances whose childhood has been 
happier. ’ ’ 

Smoloff had reflected with much bitterness 
since entering the cottage and had talked but 
little, for his voice had choked. 

Addressing Springer, he said: “From the 
melancholy position which my father holds, I 
am not a stranger to the sight of sorrow. I 
have often traveled through various districts 
under his jurisdiction, and what solitary lam- 
entations have I witnessed; what extreme 
wretchedness have I observed ! In the desert 
of Beresow, near the frozen sea, I have seen 
men who had not in the world a friend, who 
never received a caress, nor a word of kind- 
ness. Isolated from all the world their lives 
are but living deaths. ’ ’ 

“Had not my wife followed me here, I 
would have shared their fate, ’ ’ said Springer. 
‘ ‘ God knows I appreciate the blessing of their 
presence and devotion.” 

In the morning young Smoloff prepared to 
take his leave. Elizabeth observed this with 
great regret, for she had not found an oppor- 
tunity to speak to him with regard to her 

3 


34 


ELIZABETH 


project. Her parents had not quitted the 
apartments for a moment, and she dare not 
address him in their presence. 

As he was leaving, she said in the most 
anxious manner, ‘'Will you not come often, M. 
de Smoloffr’ 

Springer observed this with apprehension 
and inwardly resolved that he would not again 
violate the Governor’s orders. 

Smoloff replied to Elizabeth that he would 
see his father without delay and that he felt 
assured that he would make an exception in 
his case. 

Turning to Springer he said, “Is there no 
message I can deliver for you? Is there no 
favor you wish to ask?” 

“None,” answered Springer. 

Smoloff then asked Phedora the same ques- 
tion. 

“I should be glad,” she replied, “if the 
Governor would permit me and my daughter 
to go to Saimki on Sundays to attend mass.” 

Smoloff promised to deliver the message and 
departed. 

During his walk to Saimki, Smoloff could 
think only of Elizabeth. He recalled his first 
meeting with her in the forest and the scenes 
he had witnessed between her and her parents, 
and particularly did he recall the tender ex- 
pression of her face when she invited him to 
caU again. 


THE POLISH EXILE 


35 


He thought of her radiant beauty, of her 
unfettered mind and grace. Among the 
myriads of beautiful women at the Court of 
St. Petersburg he had found none so perfect. 
The consciousness that she was doomed to 
exile brought great grief into his life : one that 
had taken hard hold upon his heart. 

Visions of a future arose in Smoloff’s mind, 
bright dreams in which Elizabeth was the cen- 
tral fi^gure. 

He saw her restored to her native land, to 
the social rank in which she was born, sur- 
rounded by wealth and happiness and admir- 
ing friends. 

He pictured himself as the accepted lover 
among the many suitors who knelt at her 
shrine. 

It was only a dream, but it stayed with him, 
and was a solace through many a lonesome 
hour. 

Smoloff^s visit caused Springer to indulge 
in melancholy reflections. He thought of his 
generosity, his manliness and gentleness of 
character. He was a person such as a parent 
would choose for a daughter’s companion; 
but circumstances forbade such a possibility, 
and he did not wish this attractive young man 
to return. 

One evening while in deep thought with his 
head resting upon his hand, Elizabeth came 
to him to lay her plans before him. 


36 


ELIZABETH 


‘ ^ My father, ^ ^ she said, ‘ ‘ will you permit me 
to ask you a question ? ’ ’ 

He raised his hand and made a sign for her 
to proceed. 

‘‘When M. de Smoloif inquired of you if 
there was any favor you desired from the 
Governor, you replied, ‘none.’ 

“Is it true there is nothing you wish?” 

‘ ‘ Nothing that he could procure for me, ’ ’ he 
replied. 

“And where is it to be found, my father?” 

He answered, “In heaven, my child, on 
earth, nowhere,” and he resumed his dejected 
manner. 

After a pause Elizabeth continued : 

‘ ‘ Father, I have today completed my seven- 
teenth birthday. From this day I wish to de- 
vote my life to the restoration of our freedom. 
I have known no life but that of an exile and 
I was content until I realized that you and my 
mother were unhappy. Because you did not 
wish to mar my pleasure you have kept your 
sorrows a secret; but I most earnestly desire 
to share your misfortunes, if they must con- 
tinue. 

“Will you not tell me why you and my 
mother are sad and what your misfortunes 
are, while I have none? 

‘ ‘ Tell me your name, the name of your coun- 
try, and why you are here and unhappy ? ’ ’ 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


37 


am no longer unhappy/’ he said, ‘^for 
I have learned a lesson from my daughter. 

‘ ‘ My country is where my daughter is ; the 
name bearing the greatest glory for me is to 
be the father of Elizabeth ; but I promise you 
that in a few days I will give you the informa- 
tion you desire. 

‘‘I cannot do it today.” 

Hope, endurance, and patient waiting in 
times of stress are said to be stronger in women 
than in men. These qualities combined con- 
stitute fortitude, which is the bulwark of char- 
acter and achievement and is abiding. 

Elizabeth had fortitude. This qualified her 
for the perilous undertaking she had in view. 
It enabled her to keep up her courage, and to 
ignore obstacles which to others seemed insur- 
mountable, otherwise she must have yielded to 
discouragement and abandoned her object. 

Time passed. Elizabeth did not press her 
father for a reply to her questions. She waited 
patiently for the time when he might feel in- 
clined to talk to her; but she waited in vain. 
He appeared to avoid her ; he had divined her 
project. 

Although it did not seem right to refuse her, 
his affection for his child caused him to hesi- 
tate in granting what he knew she would en- 
treat, yet this seemed the only way open for 
him and his family to be reinstated in their 


38 


ELIZABETH 


rights, and to place Elizabeth in the rank into 
which she was born. Willingly would he have 
given his own life to save his family, but for 
his daughter to risk her life in securing their 
freedom seemed more than he could bear. 

The silence of her father made Elizabeth 
feel that he had anticipated her designs and 
disapproved of her plans ; otherwise he would 
not use such precautions, and avoid speaking 
on the subject. Indeed, when she thought the 
matter over she felt that it was wellnigh 
impossible to accomplish such an undertaking 
without the aid of M. de Smolotf, whom she 
felt could divest her scheme of obstacles which 
at present seemed insurmountable. 


CHAPTER III 


S IBERIA is subject to sudden storms terri- 
ble in aspect. A thick fog arises im- 
pelled from the opposite sides of the 
horizon. When the currents meet the strong- 
est trees cannot resist their violence. The flexi- 
ble birch trees bend to the ground. The snow 
rolls from the hilltops carrying with them 
great masses of ice which dash against the 
rocks, scattering the fragments in all direc- 
tions. Huts which are used to shelter animals 
are sometimes raised and dashed to the 
ground, causing ruin and death. 

One morning in January, Elizabeth was 
overtaken by one of these storms. She was on 
the plain near the little chapel. The darkness 
of the sky announced a tempest. She entered 
the chapel for protection, and while prostrate 
before the altar she was' not afraid, so pro- 
found was her belief in the power from above. 
While the winds warred outside and the build- 
ing shook she was serenely wrapped in prayer. 
Overcome with weariness she fell asleep at the 
foot of the altar. 

It was on the same day that Smoloff re- 
39 


40 


ELIZABETH 


turned from Tobolsk to Saimki and proceeded 
at once to the cottage of the exiles. He brought 
the permission to Phedora for her and her 
daughter to attend mass at Saimki on Sun- 
days ; but the courts increased their vigilance 
over Springer. His house was to be searched 
more frequently, all mail was to be intercepted. 
He was forbidden to go further than two 
versts* from his home in hunting and was not 
to be permitted to purchase any more books 
or writing paper. Smoloff ^s visits were to be 
discontinued. His father exacted a solemn 
promise from him that this would be his last. 
Smoloff was much disturbed over the increased 
severity toward Springer and the enforced 
cessation of his own visits, and was determined 
to make the most of his final opportunity. 

A storm was coming from the north and 
Elizabeth had not returned. _ 

Springer expressed alarm and prepared to 
start in search of her. 

Smoloff insisted on accompanying him. In 
doing this he saw the opportunity to express 
his interest in Elizabeth, knowing that to en- 
ter the forest in such a storm was a risk of life. 

They were obliged to dodge fragments of 
trees and ice while a blinding snowstorm pelted 
their faces. 

‘‘Let us proceed to the plain,’’ said Spring- 


— *Verst, 2/3 of a mile. 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


41 


er. ‘ ^ She goes there every day, and we may 
find that she has tah:en shelter in the chapel. ’ ’ 

On the open plain the danger wass less, but 
the violence of the wind drove them from their 
course. 

At length they reached the chapel. Smoloff 
was the first to enter, and was astonished to 
find Elizabeth asleep at the foot of the altar. 
As the father bent over his child she awoke, 
and perceiving him threw her arms about his 
neck. ‘‘Ah, I know you watched over me,’’ 
she said. “My child,” he answered, “what 
anxiety have you caused your mother and me. ’ ’ 
‘ ‘ Oh, my father, ’ ’ she replied, ‘ ‘ I beg pardon ; 
let us hasten home and relieve my mother. ’ ’ 

On rising she observed Smoloff, “and you, 
too, are here,” she said. “Three protectors 
have been guarding me. Heaven, my father 
and you.” 

She walked between her father and Smoloff 
who protected her with their fur mantles. But 
the storm soon abated and the clouds passed 
and then she declared that she no longer needed 
their assistance, and hastened home ahead of 
them. Phedora thanked Smoloff for his kind- 
ness, but dared not ask him to remain. Eliza- 
beth hearing that it was to be his last visit, 
said in a tone of regret, “and shall we never 
see you again?” “Oh, yes,” he replied, “as 
long as you live in this cottage and I am at 


42 


ELIZABETH 


Saimki, I shall see you at church, and I shall 
see you on the plain, and on the banks of the 
lake whenever you will permit me/’ 

With the certainty that she would meet him 
again, Elizabeth took leave without regret. 

When Sunday arrived Elizabeth and her 
mother set out for church at Saimki. Springer 
was left alone for the first time in his thir- 
teen years of exile ; he concealed his feelings 
and gave them his parting blessing. 

The Tartar peasant woman guided them 
through the forest to Saimki. 

On entering the church all eyes were turned 
toward them. They advanced to the altar and 
reverently bowed their heads in prayer. The 
concert of voices piously chanting the sacred 
hymns made a deep impression on Elizabeth. 
When the music had ceased she raised her veil 
and glancing over the church she observed 
young Smoloif leaning his head against one 
of the pillars a short distance away, looking 
intently at her. She noticed the kindness 
which beamed in his face and it inspired her 
with a feeling that she could trust him. 

Smoloff read in her eyes all that she felt. 
Those soft dark orbs had not yet learned the 
art of dis^ise. 

On leaving the church Smoloff invited Phe- 
dora and Elizabeth to ride in his sledge to the 
edge of the forest. Elizabeth was disappointed 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


43 


as she felt that in the course of a walk she 
might have had the opportunity to talk with 
him in private. 

The sledge conveyed them to the lake be- 
yond this he dare not go. Phedora alighted 
first and taking his hand said, ‘‘Will you not 
sometimes walk this wayT’ Elizabeth who 
followed her mother hurriedly said in a sup- 
pressed tone, “No, not this way, but to the 
chapel on the plain tomorrow morning. ’ ’ Thus 
did she innocently delude Smoloff into believ- 
ing that it was to be a lover ^s meeting ; but in 
her own mind and heart, her father’s interests 
only were considered. Her face beamed with 
joy when Smoloff promised to meet her, for 
she felt that her plans were nearing comple- 
tion. 

Smoloff returned to Saimki with feeling 
akin to ecstasy. How could he doubt longer 
that the attraction was mutual. 

To him Elizabeth was the most winning and 
beautiful creature he had ever known. Her 
frankness he attributed to her inexperience 
and unsophisticated nature. While it aston- 
ished him he excused it as an undisguised ex- 
pression of her fondness for himself. 


CHAPTER IV 


I T was not with the embarrassment attend- 
ing a stolen meeting that Elizabeth re- 
paired to the chapel on the plain the fol- 
lowing day, but with all the security of inno- 
cence and ardent hope in the success of her 
plans. Her heart was lighter and her walk 
more swift than usual, as she considered that 
she was taking the first important step toward 
the liberation of her father. 

The sun shone with brilliant splendor on the 
icy plain ; myriads of icicles fringed the 
branches of the trees. Nature smiled sweetly 
as if to encourage Elizabeth in the pursuit of 
her object. She entered the chapel at the 
appointed time; but Smoloff was not there. 
She was alarmed lest some circumstance might 
have prevented his fulfilling his engagement 
and feared that, after all, her plans might 
fail. She was kneeling in prayer before the 
altar when Smoloff entered. On seeing him 
she exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, M. de Smoloff, how impa- 
tiently have I awaited your coming. I have 
sought this opportunity of meeting you that 
44 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


45 


I might beg your assistance in the attempt to 
restore my father to liberty/’ 

Smololf ’s heart sank on hearing these words, 
for they made known to him that, after all, it 
was her affection for her father and not for 
him that had suggested to her to plan this 
meeting. 

‘‘Through all my life, M. de Smoloff, my 
parents have been the sole objects of my af- 
fections. In my home here in this forest I 
have had only them. I have not missed the 
things I know not of, but one thing has dis- 
turbed me. My parents are dissatisfied here. 
M. de Smoloff, I have determined to go to 
Petersburg to solicit my father’s pardon. I 
cannot tell you when I first thought of doing 
this, but it was a long time ago, and the 
thought has never left me. All day it follows 
me. It is with me when I go to sleep, and it 
comes at waking each day. It takes full pos- 
session of me when with you, and it was this 
that impelled me to seek this interview. I 
dread neither fatigue, poverty nor opposition, 
nor even death, so determined am I to go on 
this errand. I have resolved to leave Siberia 
and nothing can shake my determination. ’ ’ 

The flattering hopes of a lover were buried 
in this interview; but respect and admiration 
were supreme in the young man’s heart. The 
tears came to his eyes as he replied : 


46 


ELIZABETH 


‘ ^ I feel flattered beyond expression in being 
the chosen counsellor of one who, in a brief ac- 
quaintance, I have learned to revere. But, 
Elizabeth, are you aware of the great obstacles 
that must be overcome ? ’ ’ 

' ‘ Two obstacles have occcurred to me, ’ ’ she 
said, ‘^but I thought that you might be able 
to remove these. I am a stranger to the road 
and my flight might injure my father. The 
latter weighs more heavily on me than the 
former. I would willingly give my life to se- 
cure my father’s freedom; but to fail in the 
attempt, or to be the cause of increasing the 
burdens he already bears, that I could not en- 
dure. 

“I rely upon you for advice in everything 
concerning my journey. The road I am to pur- 
sue, the places where I am to stop which fur- 
nish relief to travelers ; and I wish also instruc- 
tions with regard to presenting my petition to 
the Emperor ; but above all, M. de Smoloff, can 
you assure me that your father will not punish 
mine for his child’s offense?” 

Smoloff pledged his word on this. He well 
knew that the Governor would do all in his 
power to grant the wish of his son. 

‘‘But, Elizabeth,” said Smoloff, “do you 
not know that the Emperor considers your 
father his most inveterate enemy?” 

“I do not know,” she replied, “of what 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


47 


crime he is accused. They have not told me. 
I do not even know my father’s name, or the 
name of his country, but I know that he is in- 
nocent. ’ ’ 

‘‘What!” said Smoloff, ‘‘do you not know 
the rank your family held, nor their nameT’ 

‘ ‘ I know neither, ’ ’ she said. 

“Astonishing! Then you do not know the 
honors of which your father is deprived. You 
know not the honor and station that would 
revert to you did you reclaim your liberty?” 

“These are secrets which my father has 
withheld from me,” she said, “and I must 
hear them from him only.” 

Elizabeth resumed by asking how soon he 
could give her information regarding her ex- 
pedition. 

“I must take time to consider,” he an- 
swered; “but, Elizabeth, do you think it pos- 
sible for you to traverse the thirty-five hun- 
dred versts, which divide Ishim from the 
province of Ingrai alone, on foot, and without 
money. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ God will not desert me, ’ ’ she replied. 

“It is impossible at least until summer to 
undertake such a voyage ; even the sledges are 
stopped now. 

“The blocks of floating ice in the marshy 
forests of Siberia would swallow up the trav- 
eler who would rashly attempt to cross them. 


48 


ELIZABETH 


‘‘I will see you again in a few days and 
will give you my opinion concerning your con- 
templated trip. I will go to Tobolsk and con- 
sult my father. He is the best of men, and 
believe me, your father and other exiles would 
fare much worse if he were not Governor of 
the district. He cannot assist you directly, 
his duty forbids ; but I pledge my word that 
my father, so far from punishing yours would 
be only too glad to serve him in part for his 
own son’s sake. 

‘‘Pardon me, Elizabeth, if my feelings de- 
clare themselves. I know that you cannot 
respond. I know that you are occupied with 
other thoughts. But if the day should ever 
come when you and your parents are restored 
and happy in their native land I beg of you 
to remember that in the land of exile Smoloff 
saw and loved you, and would have preferred a 
life of obscurity and poverty with Elizabeth 
in this forest to all the glory that the world 
can give.” 

Tears came to his eyes and he said no more 
lest he should appear weak. 

Elizabeth, amazed, stood motionless scarcely 
comprehending the meaning of his words. She 
was unaccustomed to compliments. Her sense 
of decorum which was such as is suggested by 
the instincts of a guileless heart made her feel 
that she should not remain alone in the chapel 


THE POLISH EXILE 


49 


with a man who had declared his love and 
she prepared to leave. 

Smoloff imploringly asked pardon for his 
offense. ^‘Oh, yon have not offended me/’ 
she said, ‘‘and I shall not be so ungrateful as 
to forget your kindness to me. No; I shall 
never forget you.” 

Smoloff at parting promised to do all in his 
power to assist her in her undertaking. 

They each went their way, Smoloff to in- 
dulge in dreams of his heart’s first and purest 
awakening. Love had come to him in its com- 
pleteness and filled all space. From this day 
forth it was his life. 

Elizabeth’s heart was filled with gratitude, 
which is frequently the forerunner of love. 


4 


CHAPTER V 


W HEN Simday arrived Elizabeth, accom- 
panied her mother joyfully to 
Saimki. 

At parting Smoloff had looked forward to 
this meeting with the thought that he would 
again behold the maiden he adored ; Elizabeth 
with the eager desire to receive instructions 
which might be the means of promoting her 
enterprise ; but Smoloff was not there. 

She inquired the cause of his absence and 
was told that he had departed two days pre- 
vious for Tobolsk. 

She was greatly disappointed. Everything 
seemed to have deserted her. She feared that 
the Governor of Tobolsk had disapproved of 
her plans and had prohibited his son giv- 
ing his assistance ; yet she did not lose faith. 

She tried to conceal her disappointment 
from her parents. She retired early, that she 
might yield to the grief which overwhelmed 
her; but Phedora had noticed the change in 
Elizabeth. She talked it over with her hus- 
band. ‘‘At the mention of Smoloff ^s name,’’ 
she said, “she turns pale. She avoids our 
50 


THE POLISH EXILE 


51 


company, is anxious and unhappy. I heard 
her inquire after him in church. When told 
that he had gone to Tobolsk she looked grieved. 
Elizabeth is not too young to love. No, Stanis- 
laus, I was but seventeen when your name 
mentioned made me blush, and an unexplained 
absence turned my cheek pale ; but I fear that 
Smololf would scorn the love of an exile ^s 
daughter. ’ ^ 

‘‘Phedora/’ Stanislaus replied, ‘‘I am cer- 
tain that another matter is occupying Eliza- 
beth's mind. 

“I am certain also that Smoloff would not 
scorn the hand of our daughter, even here in 
this forest; but she is not in love with him; 
she seeks his assistance, that is all. 

I ‘ ‘ I feel that Elizabeth need not always live 

I in exile; such virtue and beauty cannot re- 
main in obscurity; she was bom for happi- 
ness ; so much goodness obscured would defy 
the justice of heaven.” 

It was now near the middle of May. The 
Siberian sunshine, as if to make amends for 
its tardy coming, had suddenly kissed into 
being the beautiful flowers of the forest. 
White blossoms thickly covered the boughs 
I of the thorn bush over which the bees made 
i! merry; the blue budded campanula, the 
downy moth wort, and the iris bloomed about 
^ the roots of the trees and along the water ’s 
[ margin. 

1 


52 


ELIZABETH 


The beautiful Persian mallard of a bright 
flame color with tufted head and ebony beak 
sported on the banks of the lake; this bird 
always utters the most piercing cry when a 
gun is fired. 

Woodcocks of various species, some black 
with yellow beaks, others speckled with feath- 
ery ruffs, strutted o’er the marshy grounds or 
hid among the rushes. 

Blackbirds descended in flocks on the forest 
trees. All nature proclaimed the return of 
summer. 

For two months Elizabeth went every Sun- 
day to church with the hope of seeing Smoloff, 
but he was not there ; she could hear nothing of 
him, except that he had left Siberia. 

This caused her bitter grief, but she con- 
cealed it from her parents, giving vent to her 
overwrought feelings only in her private 
room, and in the silence and solitude of 
night; but in Smoloff she never lost faith. 
She knew not of the world’s disappointments 
and uncertainties; her heart had not yet 
learned to doubt ; she fully believed that time 
would bring about the fulfillment of her plans 
which would enable her to secure her father’s 
freedom. 

If she failed in getting the aid of M. de 
Smoloff she believed that some means would 
be provided by the unseen hand of Providence 
for the execution of her desires. 



“Smoloff writes a letter to Elizabeth.” 








'.' *v •'■ ■ -t* -V V .' f 


* • srf » ^ ^ /■ -A • ^ ^ A „ » * 

ru I ' *v . =•"' • -. ...-^ '■ r?’ ..'t . IT' -I?T« .V 

• >• & V. - ^ -.4 V.’ ••.. * - I 




*♦ ' 


_v ■ \ 

- > .1 




fei'r ' ''‘ 


y' > 


• • r.y 


* s 




* -■% 

'k)-, ■"•* 

..a;' 'o ;i. 

■ :h ■* - .-■ ' . ‘ , 


?•«. 


r f‘ 


* - - . ’ " - «>< -y % * w>jp*,* y* v-^ -**1 '4 l ^ I • * 

^ ^ * p\ tr umL ■ * * A - 

^ ’ • . ■•,^> «Apr .:> ^ A "... ^ ' r 

-' « ■' ■ / f^.-’- ■’'V'^ ■'■ -.- -•< 

,^, - • . ■ ^ ‘1 • J-. ^ 7i>*»*- ' ^ 




1 

»•• Vt 


— ^ / V ■ 


I ^ 


.«%* * « » 






-st 

I* 


♦! 

-* -f\ -ifr ' 
* ■> • 


•'t- < 




t t 
» * * 


B . 





•- r^v-- i 

„ •< - *1 - ^ 

** ' - • ^ «W ' 


« • 


• -':’ ' ;■ '.rv vif'Y • 

"-' -? . =5*''^--.'n u‘-’-V-.5 


I ^ 


1 ^- 




. • . .." vai-' •> . - ■‘•' ■ ,r 

_ V ’ ■ ■■'. 


• • • r 
. » 


'V. 











> I 

»!• 


Hv 




• <^ f 


4^ ^ i 


» ► 


t.H, 


!> t> ^ k 

- I , 


t/v 




■ -A* 

i. ’ * ■ •’ 


\ • 













TEE POLISH EXILE 


53 


Elizabeth, realizing that the time had come 
for her to depart, decided to go unaided de- 
pending on heaven and her own fortitude for 
success. 

One morning while Springer was employed 
digging in the garden, Elizabeth, a short dis- 
tance away, observed him in silence. 

He had not yet explained to her the cause 
of his misfortunes. A delicacy of pride and 
fidelity to her father’s wishes had prevented 
her from seeking the knowledge which he had 
withheld from her; yet, how could she go to 
solicit pardon for an offense of which she knew 
nothing. She had depended on Smoloff’s as- 
sistance, and now that this opportunity had 
failed her, she must find other means of exe- 
cuting her plans. 

Elizabeth had reflected much upon the ob- 
jections which her parents would be likely 
to offer. 

Smoloff had told her of many obstacles 
which were in the way of success, and she felt 
that her parents, through their devotion to 
her, would exaggerate them. She wished to 
be able to answer all their objections. Over- 
come by the thought of a possibility of her 
plans being defeated she burst into tears. 

Her father hearing her sobs turned hastily 
to her, and begged her to tell him the cause 
of her grief. 


54 


ELIZABETH 


‘ ‘ Oh, my father, ’ ’ she replied, ^ 4t is in your 
power alone to relieve me. You know my 
wish. Will you not ^ant it? 

‘ ‘ Only this can make me happy. I feel that 
I cannot live if I must abandon the thought of 
delivering you from exile. 

The young peasant, their domestic, running 
toward them, cried: 

‘ ‘ M. de Smoloff, M. de Smoloff is come ! ’ ’ 

Elizabeth uttered an exclamation of delight 
and pressed her father’s hand. ^‘Heaven has 
sent him, ’ ’ she said. ^ ‘ He will help me break 
the chain which holds you a prisoner. ’ ’ 

She ran to meet Smoloff. Meeting her 
mother, she embraced her, saying: de 

Smoloff has come ! ’ ’ 

On entering the cottage she perceived a 
stranger, a man apparently fifty years of age, 
in military dress, accompanied by several offi- 
cers. 

Amazed, the mother and daughter started 
back. 

Elizabeth turned pale and her eyes filled 
with tears. Phedora noticed this and at- 
tributed her emotion to disappointment in not 
meeting young Smoloff. 

The Governor of Tobolsk, the stranger in 
military uniform, dismissed his attendants 
and turning to Springer said: 

‘‘Sir, since the Court of Russia deemed it 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


55 


expedient to condemn you to banishment, this 
is my first visit to this remote spot ; and it is 
pleasant to me to testify to so an illustrious 
an exile how sincerely I regret his misfortunes, 
and that my sworn duty forbids me to offer 
assistance and protection I would otherwise 
gladly bestow.’’ 

‘‘I expect nothing from men, sir,” replied 
Springer coldly. ‘‘As I hope nothing from 
their justice, neither do I desire their commis- 
eration. My misfortunes have placed me in 
banishment. Here will I remain content to 
suffer for my fidelity to the cause of my 
country, since the world cares not to under- 
stand. ’ ’ 

“Oh, sir!” interrupted the Governor, “for 
a man like you to live so far away from his 
country is a destiny to be deplored.” 

“There is one, sir, more lamentable still,” 
replied Springer, “which is to have no coun- 
try.” 

He paused, for another word might have 
added a tear and the illustrious sufferer wished 
to appear above his misfortunes. 

Elizabeth watched the face of the Governor 
to see if she could discover in his countenance 
sufficient sympathy to warrant her in ap- 
proaching him on the subject nearest her heart. 

Turning to Elizabeth the Governor said: 
“My son has mentioned you to me.” 


56 


ELIZABETH 


‘‘Did he tell you/’ interrupted Phedora, 
“that Elizabeth is indebted to him for saving 
her father’s life?” 

“No, madame,” answered the Governor, 
“but he told me how ready she was to devote 
her life to that father and to you.” 

Addressing Elizabeth, he continued: “It 
is two months since my son left Saimki. He 
received an order from the Emperor to rejoin 
the army then assembling at Livonia, and was 
obliged to go without delay. Before his de- 
parture he left with me a letter to deliver to 
you. I dared not trust it with a messenger 
without great risk and until the present time 
have not been able to deliver it myself.” 

Elizabeth, blushing, took the letter which he 
presented to her while her parents looked on 
with apprehension. 

The (^vernor recalled his attendants and 
in their presence said to Springer: “Sir, 
the commands of my sovereign prevent me 
from allowing you to receive visitors here, 
nevertheless if any traveling missionaries, who 
I am told sometimes cross these forests on their 
return from the frontiers of China, should 
come to your dwelling to beg a night’s lodging 
I give you permi^ion to receive them.” 

The Governor departed. Elizabeth still held 
the letter unopened. 

“My child,” said her father, “if you are 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


57 


waiting for permission to open your letter you 
have it.’’ 

With a trembling hand she broke the seal. 
As she read the contents she made frequent 
exclamations of joy. When she had finished, 
she said excitedly : 

^ ‘ The time has' arrived, everything is favor- 
able. 

‘‘Oh, my father and mother! will you not 
give your consent?” 

Her father understood her meaning, but 
had not explained Elizabeth’s plans to his 
wife. 

Phedora excitedly asked for an explanation 
of the mystery. “What does that letter con- 
tain?” she asked. 

“Oh, my mother, pardon me,” said Eliza- 
beth, “if in my desire to spare you pain I 
have not confided to you the plans which I 
have conceived to restore my father to his 
native country.” 

“My child,” said Springer, “it means a 
separation.” 

“No! No!” exclaimed Phedora in tears. 
“Ask my life; but do not ask me to consent 
for you to leave us, Elizabeth.” 

“But, my mother,” asked Elizabeth in a 
trembling voice, “if to restore my father to 
liberty, to happiness, to home and friends I 
ask for some days only, would you not con- 


58 


ELIZABETH 


sent? For the love you bear us both, would 
you not do this ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, not for a day, ’ ’ exclaimed her mother. 
^‘What could liberty be at such a price? No, 
not for a day! Do not ask me to grant so 
great a sacrifice. ’ ^ 

These words sank heavily into the heart of 
Elizabeth. 

Unable to utter words which would distress 
her mother, she handed the letter to her 
father, requesting him to read it aloud. In 
a faltering voice he read the following lines 
written by M. de Smoloff at Tobolsk, dated 
two months previous: 

^‘The greatest regret I have in leaving 
Saimki, Elizabeth, comes from the fact that 
necessity forces me to leave without an op- 
portunity of seeing you and explaining the 
obligations which force my absence. 

can neither see nor write to you with- 
out disobeying my father, and also risking his 
safety. 

‘‘With the example which you have given 
me of duty to a father, I could not thus risk 
the life of mine ; although I will acknowledge 
that it nearly broke my heart to obey his re- 
quest by returning to Tobolsk without per- 
forming the services you desired, and which 
I would have considered a great honor to 
grant. 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


59 


‘‘I have explained everything to my father 
and I believe that he will visit the district of 
Ishim this year and it will be for the purpose 
of seeing you. He will convey to you this let- 
ter, and, Elizabeth, I depart with less appre- 
hension that I have placed you under his care. 
But do not think of starting on your journey 
until I return, which I expect will be in less 
than a year. 

‘‘Let me be your guide and companion, 
Elizabeth. Let me present you to the Em- 
peror. 

“My father informs me that an official or- 
der calls me a thousand miles away, and I 
must depart without delay. You do not know 
what pain it gives me to leave you. 

“Do not fear that I will address you again 
on the subject of my love. No! I ask only 
that you will allow me to be your friend, and 
if you will but permit me the honor of serving 
you, you will not have reason to regret that 
you have trusted M. de Smoloff, who would 
be only too glad to aid you in restoring your 
honored father to the station where he right- 
fully belongs. 

“Should this letter get miscarried and be 
made known abroad, I would be called a 
traitor; but the brand would come as it has 
to many another, in the service of justice and 
freedom. 


60 


ELIZABETH 


‘‘I have the honor, Elizabeth, to subscribe 
myself, 

‘‘Your sincere friend, 

“M. DE Smoloff/’ 

Underneath was a postscript written by the 
governor as follows: 

“Elizabeth, I have given permission for 
some one to enter your dwelling whom you 
can trust. 

“ It is better so. My son could on no account, 
for various reasons, attend you on this trip. 

“Were it made known that I am aiding you, 
it would be my ruin, but I know in whom I 
am trusting and I do not fear. 

“M. DE Smoloff, Governor.’’ 

As he finished the letter. Springer’s voice 
became more firm and a look of animation 
lighted up his splendid countenance. He was 
flattered by the confidence shown in his 
daughter, and the letter inspired a hope which 
revived his long depressed spirits; — ^but the 
mother thought only of the danger to which 
her daughter would be exposed. 

She pictured her traveling alone, on foot, 
and without aid. 

“No, not for a moment would I consider 
it,” she said. 

“My mother,” answered Elizabeth, “I beg 
of you, do not oppose me. 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


61 


‘‘It is the only means by which we can se- 
cure our liberty. 

‘ ‘ Do not thwart my plans. I have been long 
in maturing them; so long that I cannot re- 
member when they began. Could my com- 
panions of the forest — the birds, the trees and 
the flowers — answer back, they would all bear 
witness to the secret which I have conflded 
only to them. 

“I ask pardon, my parents, for grieving 
you, but, while I implore you, all nature seems 
to proclaim that the time for waiting has 
passed. 

‘ ‘ I promise you that I will allow nothing to 
discourage me, neither suffering, contempt, 
hunger nor fatigue. Only the refusal of your 
permission will daunt me.’’ 

“My child,” replied her father, “it pains 
me exceedingly to refuse to grant your re- 
quest. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I cannot consent, ’ ’ interrupted her mother. 
“Your desire to free your father is noble, but 
such an undertaking would endanger your 
life. No, I cannot for a moment give my per- 
mission. 

“My child, what would life be to your 
father and me without you, either in a land 
of freedom or in exile ? 

“Your nobleness of soul exceeds your 
strength and judgment.” 


62 


ELIZABETH 


''My dear mother/^ said Elizabeth, "if you 
desire me to abandon my plan and remain, I 
will pray for strength to obey without regret ; 
but may I not yet hope to receive your con- 
sent? 

"This plan is not the result of hasty con- 
sideration, but of years of reflection. 

"What other means exist for restoring us 
to freedom? 

' ' During my father ’s thirteen years of exile, 
what friends have undertaken to secure his 
release? And if one should dare to attempt 
it, could he do as much as I could do? 

' ' Tell me what it is that is so alarming that 
you should insist on a disapproval of my 
plans. 

"Is it temporary absence? Is it danger? 
I have heard you lament that in exile there 
was no hope of bestowing me in marriage, and 
would not a husband separate me from you? 

"As for danger, there is none. I am ac- 
customed to the rigor of the climate. My 
youth will be my protection. The young and 
the weak meet with assistance everywhere. 

"I shall not be alone. Do you not remem- 
ber the words in the governor’s letter? 

"The poor missionary he speaks of to take 
shelter under our roof is to be my guide. 

"You see, all is ready. I need but your con- 
sent and your blessing. ’ ’ 



Elizabeth learns from her father that she is 
a princess.” 







>A- 



''V - f ^ 


y** * iyi' 


* I 

f W* 


v,/ -S 

A i. J 


.r 

•V ... ■'!• ♦C-a''’ r-j «' f 'j • . ^ .-..A’*- *; 

y; ,W. .•-- ■ . 'V _ -■>>*: V, ',,.Vt‘' ■ 

‘-"■■.A<'^' iff? V, 


■V'- 


V- ^v-. 




- . 'v-iS ■'■" 





. ■ . '.Vi m;' ,,.... 3.^^ - 

• f ■*•."'■ ^-. ■ --ar. .♦ - • !-, * -•*:r'itTS' .^ • '^ '* -A* _.•-■■’■ 







«n • i.. * ^ BKiCB/-^ ►. * - •* ^ ^my 

7 " ■ •"* ' “■ .^v V 1 " 

• -.5^ -• S V: " ^ ''^“ V '-- ^ * 

•;>' ■ -:-':ib-- - 

■’ i^Si<ii .'.;;'?X''‘< >:'. ■ _ '.v - ' v '•- \ -v • 

ai£.,v^V>V'- - ■ 



THE POLISH EXILE 


63 


‘‘And my daughter must beg her bread 
exclaimed Springer. 

‘ ‘ The ancestors of your mother once reigned 
in this territory, and mine reigned over 
Poland, and a princess of their name must beg 
her bread in that Russia which divided 
Poland that she might add more provinces to 
her empire ! ’ ’ 

“My father, if I am a descendant of mon- 
archs who have worn with honor royal dia- 
dems, I desire to prove myself worthy of them 
and of you. 

“Will you not permit me to honor their il- 
lustrious names by service in the cause of free- 
dom? 

“Poverty alone cannot dishonor a name. 
Many great men of whom you have told me 
have become impoverished in the service of 
their country, — as you may have done, my 
father, although you have not deemed it wise 
to disclose to me the circumstances which ban- 
ished you from your native land. ’ ’ 

Springer looked with pride upon his daugh- 
ter, who displayed all the virtues of heroism 
such as had distinguished her royal ancestors. 
It aroused in him feelings which had long been 
dormant, and it made him reflect that he could 
no longer resist her appeal. 

“My beloved Phedora,^’ he cried, “let us 
give our consent. We must not condemn our 
child to remain in exile. 


64 


ELIZABETH 


‘ ‘ In her plan lies the only hope we have to 
be restored to freedom. 

' ‘ I care not for myself, but shall we deprive 
Elizabeth of the prospect which the world 
offers to such as she is by birthright and by 
nature ? 

‘ ‘ Shall we withhold from her the pleasures 
of society, the privilege of being a wife and 
mother, and the honors which would revert to 
her in her native land ? 

‘ ‘ Let us give our consent. ’ ’ 

‘‘No, never, replied Phedora, “never will 
I consent to my child going on such a voyage. 

“We would at some future time hear that 
she died from cold, or had perished of starva- 
tion or sickness, or was killed by robbers. No ! 
I shall never give my consent. Never 

“Elizabeth,’’ said her father, “without 
your mother’s consent you must not go.” 

“I will not disobey my mother,” she re- 
plied, placing her arm gently around her 
mother’s waist and kissing her; “but I shall 
still hope and pray for wisdom to guide us to 
a better understanding of what is best for me 
to do. Let us seek in prayer the will of our 
divine Father.” 

While in prayer relief came to all. When 
belief in a divine power exists in honest hearts, 
it takes the highest range of thought and senti- 
ment, giving consolation and support. It was 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


65 


this sustaining power that kept this family 
from the depths of despair. 

Elizabeth at this time was the greatest suf- 
ferer and most needed the inward strength to 
bear up under disappointment ; but through it 
all she exhibited the fortitude of a strong 
woman, remaining tearless and calm. 

The souPs greatness is measured by the tests 
which sorrow and disappointment bring. If 
found wanting it may not rise above despair. 

Elizabeth had disciplined herself through 
years of patient waiting. She had learned to 
wait calmly and trustingly and her strength 
did not fail her at this trying hour. 


5 


CHAPTER VI 


O N the following day Stanislaus related 
to Elizabeth the story of his misfor- 
tunes. He told her that Poland, his 
native country, had for eight centuries existed 
as a great nation ; how a train of misfortunes, 
resulting from misrule, religious persecutions 
and the jealousy of neighboring powers re- 
sulted in her decline and fall ; how the people, 
maddened by the national dishonor and the 
plotting of traitors within their own borders, 
arose in arms to preserve the nation’s exist- 
ence and her credit ; how they were overcome 
by the combination of three rival powers, as- 
sassinated in their own stronghold, and 
Poland blotted from the map of nations. 

‘‘My only crime, my child,” he continued, 
“was that I loved my country too well to en- 
dure the sight of her slavery. The blood of 
some of her greatest monarchs flowed in my 
veins; but for the misfortunes of war the 
throne might have passed to me. I loved my 
country as I loved my life. I rejoiced in her 
glory as I was distressed by her defeat. When 
her cause was wellnigh lost, I defended her 
66 


THE POLISH EXILE 


67 


at the head of a small army of nobles against 
the three great powers which combined to de- 
stroy her; and when overpowered by num- 
bers we were forced to yield under the walls 
of Warsaw, — in my heart I resisted still. 

‘‘Reduced to the last extremity, I sought 
foreign aid to assist in restoring to my coun- 
try her independence and her name, but all 
in vain. A nation ^s allies do not pay back 
their obligations in time of distress, and con- 
quering nations give not back what they take. 

‘ ‘ Poland ’s success was a stumbling block to 
rival neighboring powers, and they combined 
to destroy her. The love of conquest out- 
weighed their love of justice. What they 
could not take by Tartar statesmanship, they 
wrenched from her in her staggering fall ; and 
by tripartite agreement divided her once 
glorious dominions into three sections, each 
nation receiving its share of the spoils. 

“Thirty-five millions of people, speaking a 
common language and bound together by com- 
mon traditions, were made exiles in their na- 
tive land, were left without a country they 
could call their own. 

“The home of my ancestors was in the part 
of Poland which fell under the dominion of 
Russia. My open protest and the large num- 
ber of malcontents who came to my house at- 
tracted the attention of an arbitrary and sus- 
picious monarch. 


68 


ELIZABETH 


‘^One morning I was taken from your 
mother, from you, my child, and my home. 

‘^You were then three years of age. You 
cried because you saw your mother weep, hut 
not for your own misfortunes. 

‘‘I was confined in prison at Petersburg. 
Phedora followed me there. 

‘^We lived nearly a year in a dreadful dun- 
geon, deprived of air and of light, but not of 
hope. 

‘‘I believed then that the Emperor would 
be willing to forgive me for having defended 
to her death my beloved country, and that he 
would trust me if I promised future submis- 
sion, but I judged him too favorably. 

‘‘I was condemned unheard and banished 
for life to Siberia. Here you and your mother 
accompanied me, or I would have been sent to 
the prison of Beresow, the solitude of Baikal 
or Kamptschatka. 

‘ ‘ To you, my child, and your beloved 
mother, I am indebted for my milder doom. 

‘‘Your mother would not have forsaken me 
had my destiny been ten times as miserable. 
She has shared all my misfortunes, and sacri- 
ficed her own comfort that she might add some 
consolation to my darkened life.’’ 

“But, my father,” said Elizabeth, “should 
you call her life a sacrifice when spent with 
you? How much more of a sacrifice would 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


69 


hers have been, and mine, were we doomed to 
live apart from you. 

‘‘Surely life in exile with those we love is 
far more desirable than all the honor and 
wealth which the world has to give apart from 
those we love. 

‘ ‘ I know but little of the outside world, but 
you have told me that it contains much un- 
certainty and unhappiness ; that the Emperor 
has enemies in the guise of friends at his own 
door, and even in his own household. After 
all, have we not been much blessed, my 
father ? ' ’ 

“ Such sentiments, my child, are worthy of 
one who bears your name. May you live to 
further honor your parents and (returning 
Smololf^s letter to his daughter), may you 
see the day when you may have cause to bless 
your benefactor. ’ ’ 

Elizabeth, blushing, went to her room to 
re-read the letter and to reflect. 

For some days the subject of her departure 
was not mentioned, but she was convinced that 
her father had persuaded her mother to cease 
resistance. 

On Sunday evening while the family were 
engaged in prayer, there came a gentle tap 
at the door, and a venerable stranger pre- 
sented himself. 

A missionary begged for a night’s lodging. 


70 


ELIZABETH 


His long white beard and bent form showed 
him to be a man of toil and age, toil such as 
weakens the body, while it strengthens the 
soul. His was a face of sorrow, illumined by a 
consciousness that his suifering had not been 
in vain. 

^‘Sir,’^ said he, addressing Stanislaus, 
enter your dwelling with joy in my heart. The 
blessing of God is upon this household. I 
have come to beg a night’s lodging.” 

Elizabeth asked him to sit down. 

''Young maiden,” said he, "you have 
chosen the path of virtue and wisdom, and 
even in the early springtime of your life have 
left us older ones far behind. 

"May you know no other path; may you 
have but roses in the background of your re- 
membrance. As your steps lead you to the 
midday of life, may you have none to retrace, 
may you have no byways of remorse to travel. ’ ’ 

With these words a heavy sigh shook his 
stalwart frame, and Elizabeth wondered in 
her heart whether the venerable missionary 
could have committed a single sin in the by- 
ways of life, of which she had heard but knew 
not of. 

Phedora began to weep. 

"Why do you weep, Madame?” he said. 
"Is not your daughter blessed above women? 

"If you grieve at the loss of your daugh- 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


71 


ter^s company for a short time while engaged 
in a righteous cause, what must a mother such 
as you suffer who lose their daughters by the 
ways of sin and are lost to them forever T’ 

‘^Oh, father!’^ exclaimed the afflicted 
mother, fear that I shall never see my 
daughter again if she undertakes this jour- 
ney/’ 

'‘Heaven will protect your daughter, 
Madame,” the missionary replied. 

“You will see her again, — if not on earth, 
in the celestial paradise ; for the Lord careth 
for his own.” 

Phedora bowed her head and was silent. 

Stanislaus spoke not a word. The trying 
hour had come. 

Elizabeth reflected. ' ' The time is near 
when I shall cease to hear my father’s voice; 
I shall no longer receive my mother’s caress,” 
and a momentary doubt came to her mind 
whether her undertaking could make amends 
for so much grief; but she resolved that she 
would not outwardly yield to discouragement 
and she reminded her parents that the supper 
hour had arrived, and the remainder of the 
evening she sought to turn the conversation 
by asking the missionary questions with re- 
gard to his travels. 

This aged missionary had spent fifty years 
of his life in a foreign land, laboring for the 


72 


ELIZABETH 


conversion of a people whom the religious 
world considered spiritually benighted. 

At the court of Pekin he had astonished the 
mandarins by his great learning and by the 
rigid practice of the virtues and self-denial, 
which he proclaimed to the people as neces- 
sary for the purification and salvation of the 
soul. 

He had assembled the unlettered natives and 
taught them the principles of righteous living. 

Men became more humane and family life 
more sacred. 

Whole communities under his teaching ad- 
vanced in civilization. 

These people who were averse to mission- 
aries in general learned to revere Father Paul, 
for such was his name. 

Unlike many missionaries within the bor- 
ders of China, he was a living example of the 
creed he preached. 

In the charity and love which he bestowed 
on his fellow man, whom he always addressed 
as brother, they beheld the incarnate virtues 
of the Savior whose doctrines he promulgated. 

Father Paul informed the exiles that he had 
been recalled by his superior and was on his 
return to Spain, his native land. 

He would pass through Kussia, Germany 
and France on foot. His return to civilization 
was a source of spiritual delight. The journey 


THE POLISH EXILE 


73 


on foot across two continents he had looked 
forward to with satisfaction. He did not 
dread the fatigue since he would daily come 
in contact with Christian people. 

In his mission work, Father Paul had suf- 
fered many persecutions and encountered 
great obstacles which, by faithful and per- 
sistent effort, he had been able to overcome. 

He had planted the cross in remote spots 
where commercial travelers had not dared to 
enter. 

In the Tartar country his sufferings had 
been most severe. He traveled through vast 
deserts without shelter from storm and the 
severities of both heat and cold, often living 
for days on a little rice flour moistened with 
water. 

He was not in the habit of relating the story 
of his own crosses, but on this occasion Father 
Paul desired to turn the attention of the 
household to greater sorrows, that their own 
might in a measure seem lessened. 

Her father and mother knew not when it 
was Elizabeth’s intention to start on her jour- 
ney, but they felt a suspense, such as comes 
with the near approach of serious events. 

Phedora followed her continually with her 
eyes, and would place her arm around her 
waist and lay plans for the following day and 
the next, and the next. The silence of her 
daughter gave her a sensation of alarm. 


74 


ELIZABETH 


One day at the dinner hour she remarked 
to Elizabeth, ‘/If the weather is clear tomor- 
row, you shall go with your father in your 
canoe to fish in the lake.’’ Elizabeth did not 
respond. 

“My child,” said her father, “do you not 
hear your mother? Tomorrow you are to go 
with me to fish in the lake.” 

Elizabeth leaned over on his shoulder and 
whispered : 

‘ ‘ Tomorrow you must console my mother. ’ ’ 

Her father turned pale. Phedora said no 
more. She divined her daughter’s meaning 
and she did not wish to hear the spoken words. 

Stanislaus had need at this hour of all the 
fortitude which had kept him from madness 
during his years of trial. He not only had 
himself to support but his wife also. 

Personally he had much hope of Elizabeth’s 
success and safe return. It was the first ray 
of light which had crept in upon his darkened 
soul since his banishment. 

Within the past few days a feeling of hope 
had come to his rescue ; had reappeared after 
many weary years of despair. 

A contraction in his throat prevented his 
eating; but, concealing his emotion, he con- 
quered it and talked in a cheerful tone, not 
of Elizabeth’s departure, but of the promise 
of an early spring. 


THE POLISH EXILE 


75 


When night came, Elizabeth knelt in prayer 
in behalf of her parents. 

Her father went to her with tears stream- 
ing down his face; Elizabeth held out her 
arms to him, but she was too much oppressed 
to weep. This she expected to be her last em- 
brace. Turning to her mother, she said : 

‘'And my mother, will not you, too, bestow 
a blessing on me ? ’ ’ 

“Tomorrow, Elizabeth,’’ she replied. 

“But why not now, my mother?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, ’ ’ said Phedora, going toward her, 
“today, tomorrow and every day.” 

Elizabeth bowed her head while her parents 
joined their hands, and with trembling voices 
pronounced a benediction. 

The missionary, with the cross in his hands, 
raised his eyes to heaven. It was the picture 
of virtue praying for innocence. 

It was nearing the end of May. At this 
time of year, in this latitude, there is scarce 
two hours between the shades of twilight and 
dawn of day. Elizabeth spent this time in pre- 
paring for her departure. She had made her- 
self a traveling dress and supplied an extra 
pair of shoes and stockings. These articles 
she stowed in a little bag made of reindeer 
skin. 

For nearly a year she had worked on these 
garments after night in her own room, keep- 
ing them secreted from her parents. 


76 


ELIZABETH 


She had saved some dried fruit, and a lit- 
tle flour that she might, as long as possible, 
avoid asking charity from strangers. 

She had ten kopeks (about six cents of 
English money). This was all the coin she 
possessed when she started on her voyage of 
more than eight hundred leagues. 

Morning dawned. ‘‘Father,” she said, 
knocking softly at the missionary’s door, 
“let us go now, while my father and mother 
are asleep. Let us be quick that they may not 
awaken. They will weep soon enough. 

‘ ‘ The window of your room is not high. I 
will jump down and can assist you in alight- 
ing.” 

They entered the forest. Elizabeth turned 
her eyes toward the cottage. Her feelings al- 
most stifled her. 

“Father,” she said, “wait here while I go 
back and look once more upon my parents. 
They are asleep and will not know. ’ ’ 

As she arrived at the window she saw her 
father coming toward her. 

“Why did you come?” she said. 

“To see you once more, Elizabeth, and bless 
you,” he answered; “to say to you that if at 
any time during your life I have neglected 
showing a proof of my love for you ; if I have 
caused your tears to flow; if a look or word 
from me has ever clouded your heart, forgive 
me before you go.” 



‘The benediction of a father marked the 
parting of the ways.” 










I 



% 


♦ 


I 


f 


i . 



• • 








4 


\ 


I 







•xT. %jj* 

» • 




I 


% 


4 .' 

C' ^ ; 


f 


4 



4 


« • 


t 




0 




« 


I 




s 






r 






1 

- A 


S 


•. f 





» 


i 




« - 





« 


4 



) 


k< 


i 



I'*xi ' 









» • 


; 


*. » 


I 

I 




j 


» 






> 


« 



THE POLISH EXILE 


77 


‘‘My father, do not talk to me thns,^’ she 
said. 

“And your poor mother, Elizabeth. What 
shall I say to her ? She will seek you every- 
where.’’ 

Elizabeth, overpowered, could not speak. 
Her father, reproaching himself for showing 
less fortitude than his child, said calmly: 
“Elizabeth, I will comfort your mother; I 
will help her to be patient till you return to 
us.” 

He walked with her to the edge of the for- 
est. To the missionary he said: “Father, I 
trust to you my jewel; may the angels guard 
and protect you.” Then, turning, he hastily 
walked back to the cottage. 

The morning’s dawn illuminated the sum- 
mits of the distant mountains and gilded the 
tops of the trees in the forest. Nature was 
still silent in sleep ; no wind ruffled the sur- 
face of the lake or fanned the leaves of the 
trees. Birds and insects were still slumber- 
ing. The benedictions of a father marked the 
parting of the ways. 

If the father’s grief was poignant in ex- 
pression, that of the mother was indescribable. 

Stanislaus called to her mind the misery of 
a life in exile, and the prospect of Elizabeth’s 
success. 


78 


ELIZABETH 


‘‘As for me/’ he said, “my hopes in life 
went out on the field of Warsaw; but I wish 
to see you and Elizabeth restored to the world, 
to liberty and to friends. 

“Let us be strong, my beloved wife. I be- 
lieve Elizabeth will succeed, and that is my 
comfort; let it be also yours. Let us have 
hope, Phedora.” 


PART II 




u 




t 


V 




r 


A 

\ 


. I 0 


* / - 

» ■ •, 

. i. 


5^ ‘t 








■ t 


t. • 

. 


» 


« 


•w 




;v'-’ 



I 


y 



» 


% 


. 









CHAPTER VII 


I T was near the end of May when Elizabeth 
and her guide set out on their journey. 
They were a full month crossing the 
marshy fields of Siberia, which during this 
season of the year are subject to inundations. 
At times they are wellnigh impassable on foot. 

Occasionally the peasants permitted them 
to ride in their sledges for a slight compensa- 
tion. At night they found shelter in huts so 
miserable that had not Elizabeth been accus- 
tomed to hardships, she could scarcely have 
rested. She slept in her clothes in the most 
wretched of beds, where the winds entered the 
crevices through the wall and broken win- 
dows, the whole family and sometimes ani- 
mals occupying the same apartments. 

On the border of Siberia is a wood in which 
a row of posts mark the boundary line. Here 
families often bid goodby to their exiled 
friends. 

Fathers, husbands, brothers, princes, nobles 
and peasants bid their last farewell to home 
and country. 

6 


81 


82 


ELIZABETH 


By these consecrated pillars thousands of 
despairing exiles have kissed the dust, and 
then with the order of march hope and all that 
is dear in life receded in the background. 

Some have scratched their farewells on the 
boundary pillars and then moved slowly past 
forever. 

As Elizabeth passed this mark she felt that 
she was taking a second leave of her parents 
and a terrible sense of loneliness took posses- 
sion of her. Then she recalled the pride which 
her father had expressed in her heroism and, 
resolving to prove herself worthy, she walked 
with lighter step and cheered Father Paul on 
his way. 

She had learned from her father that 
Europe was celebrated for its enlightened in- 
habitants; that wealth and talent were in 
abundance. She recalled her wayworn ap- 
pearance, her lack of modish manners and her 
meager knowledge, and at times she had 
doubts whether she would receive sympathy 
from those who had not themselves experi- 
enced privation and suffering. 

There was one person who often entered 
Elizabeth’s mind. M. de Smoloff seemed to 
her to be the only inhabitant of Europe since 
he was the only one she knew there. If she 


THE POLISH EXILE 


83 


could only hope to meet him at Petersburg and 
secure his assistance, she would have been at 
peace, but the Emperor had ordered him to 
Livonia and she had little hope of finding him. 

She had only Father Paul to rely on, hut 
to Elizabeth a man who had for fifty years de- 
voted his life to the service of mankind must 
have great credit in the courts of kings. 

Perma is nearly nine hundred versts from 
Tobolsk. 

The roads here were good and the fertile 
land well tilled, extensive fields mixed with 
woods of birch, opulent villages inhabited by 
Russians and Tartars were scattered along the 
way, whose inhabitants seemed contented and 
even happy. 

Elegant inns were found here ; the fine tap- 
estry, beautiful images and ornamental sur- 
roundings astonished Elizabeth who had been 
accustomed only to extreme simplicity. 

The village of Perma was the grandest of 
any she had seen, but she was shocked at the 
narrowness and filth of the streets, and the 
elegant mansions were intermixed with dirty 
hovels. 

Wealth and poverty stood side by side as 
if to emphasize the contrast. 

The town was surrounded by marshes and 


84 


ELIZABETH 


the country as far as Kassan was interspersed 
with sterile heaths and dark forests of fir, giv- 
ing to the traveler the most gloomy aspect. 

During the stormy season the lightning 
frequently strikes trees which burn with great 
rapidity. Elizabeth and her guide often passed 
through these forests while on fire. Father 
Paul suggested that these pyramids of fiames 
resembled the ancient piles on which pagans 
burned the ashes of their heroes. 

Notwithstanding the hardships which Eliza- 
beth had encountered, she had not become dis- 
couraged but believed that the difficulties of 
the voyage had been exaggerated. The 
weather had continued fair and they frequent- 
ly had opportunity to ride in the wagons which 
were returning from Siberia, whither they had 
transported new exiles. But the aged guide 
was losing his strength and Elizabeth felt that 
he needed her care more than she needed his 
guidance. 

They had now reached the banks of the 
Thama, which was but two hundred versts 
from Kassan, having traveled over nearly half 
the distance between Saimki and Petersburg. 

So far Elizabeth had experienced no re- 
verses and had she been able to travel the 
entire distance under so favorable circum- 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


85 


stances she would have considered that her 
father’s freedom had been easily purchased, 
but the winter season was approaching and 
the strength of the missionary was rapidly 
failing. It was difficult for him to walk and 
Elizabeth was obliged to spend much time for 
him to rest. While riding in the wagons the 
roughness of the road jarred his feeble frame, 
exhausting his strength. 

On arrival at Sarapul, a village on the 
banks of the Thama, the good missionary 
found himself too weak to proceed further; 
they found lodging in an inn with miserable 
accommodations near the residence of the 
superintendent of the district. The only room 
vacant was in a garret. 

A bed of straw, a chair and a table were 
the only furniture the room contained. The 
wind came through the broken casements and 
Father Paul’s suffering was so great that sleep 
was impossible. 

Elizabeth could find no physician in the 
place and the people of the inn gave no at- 
tention to the sufferer. 

She hung some pieces of old tapestry, which 
she found on the floor, across the window and 
went out to the field to search for some wild 
herbs, such as she had seen her mother use 


86 


ELIZABETH 


for medicine ; but the tea she made did not help 
him. 

At night, Father Paul grew alarmingly 
worse; Elizabeth lighted a rosin taper and 
seated herself by his bed to spend the night 
in watching, moving quietly about the room, 
taking care lest she disturb him. 

She had often heard her father say that the 
world was not kind, and she wondered as she 
watched alone on that dreary night why he 
wished to return to it. 

Toward morning Father Paul grew worse; 
hearing Elizabeth’s sobs, he grieved for her 
sorrow which he could not relieve, for he well 
knew that he should rise no more from his bed 
of straw. 

Death to him had no terrors, held no re- 
morse; but he regretted being called away 
while so much was left unfinished. 

Closing his eyes, with raised hands he said 
in a weary voice : 

^ ^ Oh, Most High, supreme in wisdom, I mur- 
mur not at Thy decrees, but had it been Thy 
will I fain would have been spared to guide 
this unprotected child to her journey’s end; 
death would have come with less regret. ’ ’ 

A little before the morning’s dawn Eliza- 
beth offered the missionary a drink of water j 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


87 


he raised himself slightly from his pillow. 
Taking the cup from her hand he lifted it up- 
ward, saying : 

^'Oh, my God, I commend her to Thy keep- 
ing, who hast promised that a cup of cold 
water in Thy name shall receive reward.’’ 

Elizabeth realized that death was near, she 
knelt beside his bed. He continued: ‘‘My 
Savior, look down with pity on Thy child. ’ ’ 

Her anguish at this moment disturbed him 
and he said with firmness, “Compose thyself, 
daughter, and listen to me. 

“Do not presume, my child, while com- 
pleting your journey to accept protection 
from those you meet, no matter to what ex- 
tremity you may be reduced ; lose not sight of 
your sacred claims, your self protection. 

“Stand fast to your noble piety, your res- 
olutions, your untarnished womanhood. A 
glorious recompense awaits you, my child ; if 
not on earth it will be accorded you in the 
celestial sphere. ’ ’ Supporting himself against 
the board placed across the head of his bed 
and exerting all his strength, he continued : 

“Elizabeth, I repeat to you, stand sacredly 
firm to your trust in God, let no discourage- 
ment weaken your courage and you will re- 
turn in safety and triumph to your parents. 


88 


ELIZABETH 


‘^You will find in my cloak a purse which 
the Governor of Tobolsk gave me. I have 
saved its contents lest some misfortune should 
overtake you, my child. 

‘‘Preserve the Governor's secret, his life 
depends upon it. This money will pay your 
expenses to Petersburg. When you arrive 
there, go to the Patriarch, tell him Father 
Paul sent you. He will protect you and no 
doubt assist you in meeting the Emperor. ’ ’ 

His voice failed ; the death dew was on his 
brow, Elizabeth clasped his hands in hers and 
wept. 

After a silence of some minutes he released 
his hands and untying an ebony crucifix sus- 
pended from his neck he gave it to her. It was 
the only earthly treasure he possessed. 

“Fear not,’’ he said feebly, “possessed of 
this I wanted not. Take courage, the Master 
deserts not His lambs, confide in his good- 
ness.” 

“Father; Oh father!” she said entreat- 
ingly, ‘ ‘ I cannot let you go. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Heaven wills it, my child, ’ ’ he replied. ‘ ‘ In 
a few brief moments I shall be in paradise, and 
will watch — ” 

He could not finish ; the words he attempted 
to utter died feebly on his lips. 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


89 


He fell back on his conch, and raising his 
eyes he made one more feeble effort and the 
missionary’s voice was silenced forever. 

Elizabeth’s sobs attracted the people of the 
inn; a crowd soon gathered, more from idle 
curiosity than compassion. 

The keeper of the inn discovered with de- 
light the purse which Elizabeth in her grief 
had neglected to secure. 

He took possession of it, telling her that after 
the expenses of the funeral were paid he would 
return to her what was left. 

In Russia, people who are employed to at- 
tend the ceremonies of interments are called 
popes. At the hour set for the funeral services 
the popes entered with torches, threw a pall 
over the deceased and placed the body on a 
bier. 

Elizabeth, penniless, alone and unprotected 
for the first time, fully realized her helpless- 
ness. 

She retired to the farthest corner of the 
room during the chanting of the funeral 
hymns. She kept her handkerchief over her 
eyes as if to shut out the world. 

When the time arrived for the burial she 
had gained strength and courage, she could 
not think of departing before the Conclusion 
of the funeral services. 


90 


ELIZABETH 


The burial ground at Sarapul is a short dis- 
tance from the town at the foot of an eminence 
on the north side of the Thama. It is sur- 
rounded by a hedge. In the center is a build- 
ing used as an oratory, around which the 
mounds, surmounted by crosses, mark the in- 
terments of the dead. 

Some straggling wild flowers grow round 
about, as if nature resented the neglect of the 
sleepers who inhabit the lowly city within. 

The train of mourners which followed the 
coffin was composed of persons of all classes ; 
several nations and as many languages were 
represented ; those who were indifferent to the 
sufferings of the living chanted their mean- 
ingless wails over his bier. 

The keeper of the inn, who had stolen the 
missionary ’s purse and thus defrauding Eliza- 
beth of the means of subsistence during the re- 
maining part of her travel, was not the least 
among the mourners. 

When the cofiSn was lowered into the grave 
the pope who officiated put a small coin into 
the hands of the deceased, according to the 
rites of the Greek church, to pay for his pas- 
sage to paradise. 

Elizabeth remained in the cemetery for some 
hours after the burial. 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


91 


With a sharp stone she inscribed on the 
cross which was placed over Father PauFs 
grave the following: 

‘^The just perisheth and no man layeth it to 
heart.” Isaiah, lvii-1. 

Night approached and Elizabeth returned to 
her dismal apartment ; and except that Father 
PauFs spirit seemed to pervade the room she 
would have been overcome with sorrow. 

Thus the departed leave behind them the re- 
flection of their lives. The dead often impart 
to the living a consolation even to joy. 

Elizabeth, believing that her guide looked 
down upon her in compassion and under- 
standing, sank into a sweet and profound 
slumber from which she did not awaken until 
dawn. 

Next morning as she started on her journey, 
the host gave her three rubles (about $2.25), 
assuring her that it was all that remained of 
the missionary’s purse after paying the 
funeral expenses. 

During her lonesome travel the next few 
days the tears almost constantly flowed; but 
she thought of Father Paul and his parting 
injunctions ; and it strengthened her spirits. 

If a peasant or inquisitive traveler ques- 
tioned her with curiosity she hastened on with- 
out reply. 


92 


ELIZABETH 


She dare not now ask for passage in the 
empty sledges which passed, fearing refusal or 
insult, and the few coins which she possessed 
must be saved for greater need. 

She chose the poorest huts for shelter and 
ate the coarsest food. Winter was at hand 
and traveling was often impossible. 

Strong winds from the northwest had col- 
lected ice on the Wolga which rendered the 
passage of the river wellnigh impossible. It 
could be crossed only by going part of the way 
in a boat and in part by foot, jumping from 
one block of ice to another ; even boatmen ac- 
customed to dangerous navigation would not 
attempt it without a high reward. 

Elizabeth attempted to enter one of the 
boats, but was rudely thrust back. She was 
told that she must wait for the river to freeze, 
which would be in about a fortnight. 

‘ ‘ In the name of Heaven, I beg of you, ’ ’ she 
entreated of the boatman, ‘ ^ assist me in cross- 
ing the river. 

‘‘I came from beyond Tobolsk and am on 
my way to Petersburg to petition the Em- 
peror in behalf of my father, who is now in 
exile in Siberia. 

‘Hf I must remain here a fortnight I can- 
not continue my journey.’’ 


THE POLISH EXILE 


93 


The boatman, softened by this appeal, gave 
her his hand and said : 

‘‘Come, my child, I will try to ferry you 
over. The fear of God and the love of your 
parents are your protection.’’ 

When they met the blocks of ice he took 
her in his arms and soon landed her in safety 
on the opposite shore. 

Out of her slender purse she offered him a 
reward, but the boatman, observing that she 
had so little, would not accept it. 

“Nicholas Sokoloff will not accept a single 
kobol,” said he. “No, rather let him add a 
little to your store ; it will bring a blessing to 
him and his six little ones. ’ ’ 

He handed her a small coin, and returning 
to his boat, he said, “May God watch over and 
protect you. ’ ’ 

Elizabeth accepted the coin, reflecting that 
she would pay it back to him on her return. 


CHAPTER YIII 


A KEEN, chilly atmosphere gave warning 
that winter was near. No house was 
in sight. Weary with walking Eliza- 
beth sought shelter at the foot of a rocky sum- 
mit. Near this hill was an extensive forest. 
She was now in Europe. She felt that she was 
nearer Petersburg, but farther from her par- 
ents; even familiar trees began to disappear. 
Her beloved fir trees were nowhere in sight 
in this forest, but were replaced by other varie- 
ties which were strange to her. 

The view of Kassan was in the distance. 
Upon the high rocks the ancient fortress of 
Chams of Tartary presented a picturesque 
view. 

In the course of her journey, Elizabeth met 
with scenes of misery far greater than her own ; 
for she traveled over the same route as the 
exiles who were on their way to the place of 
banishment. 

She had met three and four hundred men, 
94 


THE POLISH EXILE 


95 


women and children marching wearily past, 
surrounded by a cordon of armed officers. 

The men were in chains and leg fetters. 
Some were condemned for life to the mines 
of Siberia, others to the bleak arctic regions 
of Angora or the confines of China. This pun- 
ishment was supposed to be a milder doom than 
death. 

These were not all common criminals. By 
far the larger portion of them were persons 
against whom no crime was charged, but who 
had been arrested on suspicion of “having 
evil designs against the government’’ and con- 
demned without a trial. 

Occasionally she met exiles escorted by offi- 
cers of state. These were nobles or other per- 
sons of rank who had been condemned to ban- 
ishment under the political inquisition of the 
Emperor Paul. She turned her sight from 
these, sometimes closing her eyes. 

On her arrival at Vladimir, Elizabeth had 
but one ruble (78 cents) in her purse. She 
had been nearly three months traveling from 
Sarapul to Vladimir, but through the kindness 
of Russian peasants, who never take payment 
for bread and milk, her little store was not 
yet exhausted; but her shoes were worn; her 
dress was ragged and the weather was ex- 


96 


ELIZABETH 


tremely cold, the thermometer being thirty de- 
grees below freezing point. The ground was 
covered with two feet of snow, sometimes the 
snow congealed while falling, and was like a 
shower of ice. At other times, torrents of rain 
rendered the roads almost impassable. 

She was sometimes forced to protect herself 
from the weather by digging a hole in the 
snow, which she covered with the bark of trees 
as she had seen done in Siberia. 

In one of these blinding snow storms, unable 
to see the road, Elizabeth took refuge by a pile 
of rocks. She observed nearby a rude hut. 
Here she found an old woman living in the 
most abject poverty. 

‘‘My poor child,” she said to Elizabeth, 
‘ ‘ where are you from ? Why are you traveling 
alone and in such weather?” 

She made the usual reply : “lam from be- 
yond Tobolsk and am on my way to Petersburg 
to solicit my father’s pardon.” 

At these words a man in the corner of the 
room raised his head from his hand and ex- 
claimed : “ Is it possible, child, that you have 
traveled such a distance, and alone, during the 
severest of weather and to ask your father’s 
pardon ? Alas ! my poor daughter would have 
done as much for her father, but they took 


THE POLISH EXILE 


97 


her from me, and she knows not if her father is 
alive. 

‘ ‘ I felt at first that the separation would kill 
me. I would gladly have welcomed death 
rather than he doomed to live apart from my 
child, whom I loved so well. 

‘ ‘ I could write to her before I cross the con- 
fines of Siberia, but the hounds have stripped 
me of everything ; even to my last kopek, and 
the postman returning to Eiga would not con- 
vey a letter for me without a compensation.’’ 

Elizabeth gave him her last ruble knowing 
that it would enable him to send a letter to 
his daughter. 

When the storm had subsided Elizabeth pre- 
pared to start on her journey. To the old 
woman who had been so kind to her, she said : 
“Gratitude is all I have to give.” 

“My poor child,” said the woman, “have 
you given away your last coin ? ’ ’ 

The exile exclaimed: “Angel thou art. Can 
I make no return to you ? ’ ’ 

A knife lay on the table. Elizabeth took it 
up and cut oif a lock of her hair. 

“Sir!” she said, “you will see the Governor 
of Tobolsk. Give him this. Tell him it is from 
Elizabeth to her parents. ’ ’ 

He promised to grant the request, and if 


7 


98 


ELIZABETH 


given the liberty, to hunt up her parents and 
inform them of her welfare. 

With the hope of being able to convey a mes- 
sage to her parents, Elizabeth felt much en- 
couraged and her spirits revived. She had 
still the small coin given her by the boatman. 


CHAPTER IX 


F rom Vladimir to the village of Pokroff, 
the road passes through swampy lands, 
and forests of oak, elm and wild apple. 
In summer time these trees present a beau- 
tiful appearance, but afford refuge for robbers 
which infest these regions. 

In winter when the trees are bare of foliage, 
the shelter being less secure, the robbers are 
fewer in number, and therefore the traveler 
is in less danger. 

Elizabeth heard many stories, on her way, 
of the plunders of these highway robbers, 
which would have kept her in constant terror, 
except that she had nothing to lose. Her pov- 
erty was her security. She could see no reason 
why they should harm a defenseless traveler. 

A few versts from Pokroff the high road 
had been inundated by the Wolga, and trav- 
elers were obliged to make a circuit through the 
swamp. This road was now frozen over and 
all traces of its former outline were lost. 

She attempted to follow the course pointed 
out to her, but missed her way ; and after wan- 
99 


100 


ELIZABETH 


dering about more than an hour, she found 
herself in a desolate frozen swamp, not know- 
ing what direction to pursue. 

Ascending a hillock she sat down to rest 
in the sun. 

No human habitation was visible. Every- 
thing looked dreary, sad and forsaken. On 
one side of her was the frozen swamp she had 
crossed. In front of her lay a dense forest, 
with no trace of a roadway. Darkness was 
approaching. She was extremely weary, but 
she must seek shelter for the night. She lis- 
tened, hoping to hear a human voice, when sud- 
denly she heard several voices and a group of 
men emerged from the forest. Thinking they 
might give her information with regard to the 
road, she advanced toward them. On nearer 
approach their savage countenances terrified 
her, for she knew that she was encountering a 
band of robbers. She thought of Father Paul 
and his assurance of divine protection in the 
hour of danger. She knelt in prayer, taking 
no notice of the advance of the robbers. 

There were seven in the band. Seeing her 
kneel, they paused and talked together in a 
low tone. One, who seemed to be the leader, de- 
manded of Elizabeth that she tell from whence 
she came and whither she was going. 


“Elizabeth encounters a band of robbers. 




I 


I 






4 


I 


t ' 


$ 







4 


I 


» 



ft 



4 




< ^ • • • $ 1 

I • .V . 

ft 


V 

« « 


I 


% 


« 




t 




« 


# 


I 


« 




•• ft* 

ft 


f 


t 




t 


L 


•< 


I 



« 


I 


ft 


r 


4 


4 


< 



5 


ft 




1 





I 


I 


j 



» 



■ 

J 


ft 


ft 



‘3r 



I 


» 




t 



< 


I 





« 


n 


t 


t 


t , 




1 

« - 


J 




^ T 


• r 



* 


» 


* 



f 


ft 


t k 


% 


I 


0 


« 


♦ 


« 


t 


* 


I 



» 



'Tiiuml- 


•» 




V 





ft 


c 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


101 


came from beyond Tobolsk,” she said. 
‘ ^ I am the daughter of an exile, and am going 
to Petersburg to solicit my father’s pardon.” 
She added that the high road had been inun- 
dated by storms, and she had lost her way in 
the frozen marshes. 

They asked her how much money she had to 
convey her on her journey. 

She showed them the coin given her by the 
boatman on the Wolga. 

They then held council together and con- 
cluded that she was possessed of some super- 
natural power. Fearing punishment which 
they believed was certain to result if they in- 
terfered with the divine decree, they motioned 
her to pass on ; then crossing themselves, they 
withdrew in the forest to watch her move- 
ments. 

Elizabeth hastened on. She had walked but 
a short distance when she came to four cross- 
roads. Here she found a little chapel dedi- 
cated to the Virgin; and upon the four sides 
of a post were the names of four towns to 
which the different roads led. 

She knelt before the chapel. The robbers 
still watched her, and being confirmed in the 
conviction that she was protected by super- 
natural power, they retired into the forest. 


102 


ELIZABETH 


Elizabeth’s spirits began to revive as she 
discovered her way to Pokroff ; and she walked 
rapidly, that she might regain the time she 
had lost. 

She soon arrived at the Wolga, which runs 
past the village and sweeps the walls of a nun- 
nery. Here Elizabeth was warmly received. 
The nuns listened to her story of hardships ; 
and, although they were very poor, being them- 
selves dependent on charity, they received her 
with hospitality and acquainted the commu- 
nity with her story. She was shovm the most 
affectionate attention. Caresses aud motherly 
endearments reminded her of home. They la- 
mented that they could not replenish her 
purse ; but they took of their own scanty ward- 
robe and supplied her with clothing, of which 
she was in dire need. 

Elizabeth now started on her journey to 
Moscow. She was surprised at the number of 
carriages, carts, horses and people of all ranks 
which were hastening in the same direction. 

In a little village, where she stopped over 
night, the houses were so crowded with stran- 
gers that she could scarcely procure lodging, 
even in the poorest hovel. 

She was permitted to sleep in a shed which 
was so open that the snow drifted in on her 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


103 


bed of straw ; but feeling that she was nearing 
her journey’s end, she was full of hope and 
good cheer. 

She was awakened at dawn by the ringing 
of bells from all the country round. And from 
all sides she heard proclaimed the name of 
Alexander. 

The report of cannon alarmed her, for she 
had never heard one before. Inquiring the 
cause of the noise from a group of persons 
in rich livery, they looked amazed at her igno- 
rance and replied : 

^‘It is in honor of the Emperor, whose cor- 
onation is to be celebrated in Moscow.” 

‘^Is not the Emperor, then, in Petersburg?” 
Elizabeth inquired. 

^ ‘ He is in Moscow, as everyone else already 
knows, ’ ’ was the contemptuous reply. 

Elizabeth was in ecstasy. She would hasten 
to Moscow. She would see the Emperor there, 
thus shortening her journey several hundred 
versts. So eager was she to start on her jour- 
ney that she forgot that she had eaten nothing 
for eighteen hours. 

Her mind wandered back to her parents and 
in imagination she was relating to them the 
joyful tidings that her journey was almost at 
an end. 


CHAPTER X 


I T was early in March when Elizabeth en- 
tered the great city of Moscow. Although 
in reality at the end of her journey, there 
were difficulties yet to be overcome that she 
did not realize. 

Magnificent as was the display of wealth in 
this city, Elizabeth observed an intermixture 
of wretched cabins on every hand, where un- 
tiled coverings and broken windows offered but 
scant shelter to their inmates. 

Throngs of people almost entirely obstructed 
the passage in the streets and alleys. She 
found herself on a grand avenue, lined with 
rows of birch and linden ; well dressed people 
thronged the avenue, all discoursing on the 
subject of the coronation. 

Trains of elegant carriages passed continu- 
ally and the bells of the cathedrals rang. The 
sound of the cannon was almost lost in the in- 
cessant roar of the multitude. 

Night was coming on. Elizabeth had not 
eaten a morsel all day. Tired and faint she 
104 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


105 


wandered to the public square, where great 
fires were lighted. Here she sat down to rest. 
Hunger, weariness and cold had exhausted her 
spirits. 

She watched the crowd passing to see if she 
might find a kind face that would encourage 
her to ask for assistance. 

She had approached some cottages, but was 
rudely repulsed. 

Night came and the cold was intense. As 
Elizabeth’s mind wandered back to her home, 
she became discouraged. 

She recalled the content and happiness she 
had known there ; of the suffering of her par- 
ents on account of her absence and the uncer- 
tainty of her return. 

The purpose of her mission came to her with 
intensified meaning, and the refiection that 
after all she might fail in her object startled 
her and she began to weep. 

An old woman inquiring the cause of her 
sorrow expressed her sympathy by returning 
with a piece of brown bread; but Elizabeth’s 
appetite had fled. She feared that she would 
be obliged to remain in the streets all night, 
and she continued to weep. 

Placing one hand over her eyes she reached 
out the other to the passersby, hoping to at- 
tract the attention of some charitable stranger. 


106 


ELIZABETH 


A man soon approached and addressing her, 
said: 

Young woman, what do you follow for a 
living ^ ’ 

The night was far advanced and the crowd 
had dispersed. 

A guard, in making his round, demanded of 
Elizabeth to explain why she was abroad at 
so late an hour. 

The harsh manner of the soldier frightened 
her so that she could not speak. 

Other soldiers gathered about her and ques- 
tioned her with familiar rudeness. 

She gathered courage and related her errand 
to Moscow, explaining that she had no money 
to pay for a night’s lodging. 

The soldiers burst into a laugh and inso- 
lently seized her. 

She calmed herself, closed her eyes and re- 
peated : 

^ ‘ Oh, my Father in Heaven, forsake me not 
in this hour of need. ’ ’ 

Some persons passing, hearing her appeal 
for help, and observing the rude manner of 
the officers, expressed their indignation loud 
enough for Elizabeth to hear. 

She repeated that she was the daughter of an 
exile, and had come hither to seek her father’s 


THE POLISH EXILE 


107 


pardon, and had nothing to pay for a night -s 
lodging. 

A man came forward and addressing the 
soldiers, said: 

‘‘I keep the Inn of St. Basil, nearby. The 
girl’s story seems to be true. I will give her 
lodging for the night. ’ ’ 

Elizabeth was released, and trembling with 
fear, she followed her guide in silence. 

Jacques Rossi, which was the name of her 
host, conducted her to his wife ’s apartments in 
St. Basil’s Inn, introducing her and requested 
that she be well treated. 

The young wife received her compassion- 
ately, gave her a warm supper and listened 
with tears to Elizabeth’s story. 

There was no spare room in the house, but 
she was permitted to share the family apart- 
ment for the night, while the husband slept on 
a pile of straw in a shed. Thus are the poor 
good to the poor. Those with little, give it 
cheerfully, knowing the full value of the gift. 

Jacques Rossi returned to assist his wife in 
entertaining the stranger and became an in- 
terested listener to the story of Elizabeth’s 
misfortunes and the object of her mission to 
Moscow. 

‘ ‘ I have but little influence in the town, ’ ’ he 


108 


ELIZABETH 


said, ‘‘but all I have shall be directed to your 
service,’’ and he bade her be of good cheer. 

Elizabeth wished that she dare mention the 
name of Smoloff, but feared that it might in- 
volve him in difficulty. 

There were many soldiers in the city, might 
he not possibly be one of them? She would 
watch for him everywhere. 

“The Emperor Alexander is to be crowned 
tomorrow in the Church of the Assumption,” 
said Jacques Rossi. “I will accompany you 
thither, and you must place yourself in his 
way. 

“He is a virtuous sovereign, and cannot on 
such an occasion pass by an appeal for mercy. ’ ’ 
Elizabeth’s heart bounded with joy. 

‘ ‘ Oh, my benefactor ! ’ ’ she exclaimed, ‘ ‘ per- 
haps you may be the means of restoring my 
father to liberty. 

“My parents will bless you for your good- 
ness. Had I been less unfortunate, you might 
not have taken pity on me.” 

She felt that success was in sight, and her 
spirits had again revived. 

Since coming to Moscow she had heard much 
said in praise of the Emperor’s goodness. 
This gave her hope. 

She was reminded of the lateness of the 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


109 


hour by her kind host, and the necessity of 
repose that she might be prepared for the 
morrow. 

The result of years of waiting, of planning, 
of hoping, was to culminate before another 
nightfall; and Elizabeth resolved to be pa- 
tient and steadfast to the end. 

In her dreams she returned to her far away 
home and soothed her sorrowing parents by 
telling them that soon all would be well. 


CHAPTER XI 


T he artillery and rolling of the drums 
announced the dawn of the day on 
which the coronation of the Emperor 
was to be celebrated. 

Elizabeth, clothed in garments loaned to her 
by the kind lady of the inn, accompanied by 
Jacques Rossi, joined the throng on the road 
to the Church of the Assumption where the 
ceremonies were to take place. 

The holy temple was illuminated by a thou- 
sand tapers and decorated with the dazzling 
splendor of oriental magnificence. 

Upon a throne surmounted on a dais, under 
a canopy of rich velvet, was seated the Em- 
peror and his youthful consort in magnificent 
apparel, which added to the scene an air almost 
celestial. Prostrate before the Emperor, she 
received from his hand the imperial diadem, 
the pledge of their eternal union. 

Seated opposite the royal pair in the sacred 
chair of truth was the venerable Plato, the 
Patriarch of Moscow, who in a discourse, elo- 
quent and pathetic, recalled to the mind of the 
110 


THE POLISH EXILE 


111 


youthful Alexander, the great responsibilities 
of a sovereign. 

Amidst the throng of nations assembled in 
the cathedral he pointed out hunters from 
Kamptschatka who bring tributes of fur from 
the Thurile Isles; merchants of Archangel, 
whose vessels were loaded with rich commodi- 
ties from every part of Europe ; the Samoyeds 
a people from the Jenifer, and the nations of 
Astrican, whose fertile fields furnish melons, 
figs and grapes of the finest fiavor ; inhabitants 
of the Black and Caspian seas, and of the great 
Tartary, which is bounded by Persia, China 
and the Empire of the Mongols, extending over 
nearly half the globe and almost reaching the 
north pole. 

‘‘Sovereign of the greatest empire on 
earth,’’ said he, “thou art this day to take 
the solemn oath of presiding over the destinies 
of a state that contains a fifth part of the 
globe. 

“Bear ever in remembrance that you must 
answer before your God for the fate of millions 
of your fellow creatures, and that any injus- 
tice done, must be accounted for on the final 
day of reckoning. ’ ’ 

The young Emperor seemed deeply afected 
by this discourse ; but there was one in the 


112 


ELIZABETH 


multitude that was even more affected; she 
was a suppliant for a father ^s pardon. 

Elizabeth imagined that such a discourse 
must soften the heart of the Emperor toward 
the meanest of his subjects, and when he took 
the solemn oath which was to bind him to the 
promise to devote his life to the happiness of 
his people, she felt assured that he would grant 
her father’s pardon. 

Feeling that the time had come for her to 
act, and afraid that if she allowed the oppor- 
tunity to pass none other might be offered, 
she rushed toward the Emperor, forcing her 
way through the crowd, but was seized by the 
guards and led out of the church. 

She burst into sobs so loud as to create a 
general commotion, interrupting the ceremo- 
nies and attracting the attention of the Em- 
peror, who turned to one of his guards and 
requested him to make inquiries concerning 
the girl. 

As the guard advanced toward Elizabeth, 
he heard her explaining her errand and beg- 
ging permission to return to the church. 

The officer, hastening forward, seized her 
hand, exclaiming : 

‘‘Elizabeth, is it indeed you?” 

“Whence do you come?” 


THE POLISH EXILE 


113 


“From Tobolsk/’ she replied. 

“From Tobolsk alone and on foot?” 

“Yes,” she responded, “and now they are 
trying to prevent me from imploring my 
father’s pardon.” 

“I will conduct you to the Emperor’s pres- 
ence, Elizabeth. I will present you to him, 
and will plead in your father’s behalf,” said 
Smololf. 

The meeting of Elizabeth and M. de Smoloff 
was the source of unbounded gratitude to both. 

All fear for the future had fled from Eliza- 
beth’s mind. As she hastened through the 
throng, led by her deliverer, her heart was 
light and her step was buoyant. 

Smoloff forced a passageway through the 
crowd to the Emperor’s presence, and address- 
ing him, said : 

“Sire, I present to you the daughter of 
Stanislaus Poniatowski, who has traveled on 
foot, alone and unprotected, from the forest 
of Isham, where she and her parents have lived 
in exile for thirteen years. 

“She has come to ask for her father’s par- 
don.” 

“Forgiveness for my father,” Elizabeth re- 
peated. 

A murmur arose from the crowd. The Em- 


8 


114 


ELIZABETH 


peror was deeply affected. His countenance 
dropped for a moment. 

She was the daughter of an enemy, but now 
that he tried to recall the incident, however, 
he could not recollect what accusation had been 
preferred against the distinguished prisoner; 
were it otherwise he could not on such an occa- 
sion withhold his clemency. 

The tender sympathy expressed in the Em- 
peror’s face and manner assured Elizabeth 
that his reply would be favorable, but she ob- 
served a hesitation, and the tears came to her 
eyes. 

The beauty and intelligence of Elizabeth’s 
face aroused the sincere admiration and sym- 
pathy of the Emperor, and he doubted whether 
the father of such a daughter had been justly 
condemned to punishment. 

After looking into her face some moments, 
in silence, he said, in a tremulous voice, ‘‘Your 
father is pardoned. ’ ’ 

Elizabeth could not speak. Supreme joy 
had overcome her feelings, but Smoloff ex- 
pressed to the Emperor gratitude in her be- 
half, while exclamations of praise for the new 
monarch was heard on every hand. 

As Smoloff guided her to the house of 
Jacques Rossi, the crowd stood aside with re- 


THE POLISH EXILE 


115 


spectful consideration, and murmurs of ap- 
proval. 

Two days later M. de Smoloff called with the 
pardon in his hand. Three more days, how- 
ever, would elapse before the formal scroll of 
parchment, sealed with the imperial signet,- 
could be procured. 

On receiving the scroll containing her 
father ^s pardon, a flood of recollections came 
to Elizabeth, and she began to weep. 

When she recovered, Smoloff was kneeling 
beside her. 

‘‘Elizabeth,^’ he continued, ‘‘I have not yet 
told you all. 

‘‘Our kind sovereign has restored to your 
father all his large possessions, his honors, the 
rank of noble, which he formally held. 

“A carrier will deliver the order to my 
father, and the Emperor has given his consent 
for me to accompany him. ’ ’ 

“And may I not, too, accompany him?’^ 
asked Elizabeth. 

“Most certainly!’’ replied Smoloff, “and 
from you, your father will learn that he is 
free. 

‘ ‘ Presuming that this was your desire, I ex- 
pressed it to the Emperor, and he commis- 
sioned me to inform you that you have his per- 


116 


ELIZABETH 


mission to depart in one of his carriages with 
two female attendants, and he sends you a 
purse of two thousand rubles to defray the 
expenses of your journey/’ 

‘‘M. de Smoloff,” said Elizabeth, cannot 
express to you my gratitude. Since the first 
day I met you, you have done all in your power 
to aid me. 

‘ ‘Your advice was my inspiration, while pre- 
paring for my undertaking. The remem- 
brance of you cheered me while on my jour- 
ney. Had I failed to meet the Emperor on this 
occasion I should have searched for you every- 
where, and implored your assistance before 
abandoning my object. But for your presence, 
I would not have secured my father’s pardon. 

‘ ‘ I have no means of repaying you. Indeed, 
such service is beyond price. 

‘ ‘ My father, my mother and I must ever re- 
main your debtors. ’ ’ 

Smoloff was silent; a blush came over his 
face. He thought of a way in which Elizabeth 
could repay him a thousandfold ; but he would 
not tell her now, he would bide his time. 

He no longer doubted the possibility of win- 
ning her love ; no other eyes are as scrutinizing, 
none so keen in perception as the eyes of a 
lover; and in none other are the impressions 


THE POLISH EXILE 


117 


of the heart so unwittingly betrayed as in that 
of an unsophisticated maiden. 

The three days intervening before the offi- 
cial scroll containing the pardon could be ob- 
tained Elizabeth spent in making preparations 
for her long journey. She was to return to her 
exile home as become a princess of royal blood, 
and M. de Smoloff was her adviser and coun- 
sellor in everything — ^the selection of her rai- 
ment and the smallest details concerning the 
necessary preparations for her comfort while 
traveling. 

It was his desire to provide every conveni- 
ence for her homeward trip which money 
could procure. 

Their separate carriages would travel in the 
same suite, and he would have opportunity to 
extend his supervision over her to the end of 
her long journey. 


CHAPTER XII 


I T was now the middle of March. Ten 
months had elapsed since Elizabeth 
started on her journey. It would be six 
weeks before the meeting of spring. 

The preparations for her homeward trip 
was complete. 

On leaving Moscow she did not forget to 
reward her kind host and hostess, and with 
their blessing she entered the carriage which 
was to convey her back to her parents, 

Except that every possible provision for the 
prevention of delay had been provided for by 
the post stations on the returning route, much 
time would necessarily have been consumed 
on account of the weather and bad roads. 

Elizabeth was in such haste to reach her 
parents that they traveled night and day, fre- 
quently shortening the distance by one hun- 
dred miles within twenty-four hours. 

Not a day passed that Smololf did not spend 
a part of it in Elizabeth's company. 

Cheerfulness and rest from the fatigue of 
her journey had restored the bloom to her 
118 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


119 


cheeks. Her beauty was enhanced by the style 
and richness of her traveling robe. 

Never was knight more gallant, than M. de 
Smoloff; but he was deeply conscious of his 
obligations, his sacred trust, and maintained a 
respectful reserve; his silence and constant 
vigilance only suggesting his deep attachment. 

They occasionally passed exiles en route to 
banishment, for they traveled over his maj- 
esty’s highway. 

This road was laid out and in some parts 
adorned with trees by the Empress Catharine. 

Whether Catharine sought to furnish shade 
for the weary exiles, or to embellish her own 
name, matters not ; it has been a great blessing 
to the traveler in the heat of summer, and 
thousands have praised her memory for the 
deed. 

Elizabeth was not content to pass the nun- 
nery at Pokroff without delivering the glad 
message to the sisters who had so tenderly 
cared for her ; and she did not forget to repay 
their kindness by a generous contribution to 
their empty purse, and as they recrossed the 
Wolga before Kassan, she called to see Nicho- 
las Sokoloff, the boatman, who had carried her 
over the broken ice. 

The poverty of this man with a family of 


120 


ELIZABETH 


motherless children, excited Elizabeth’s com- 
passion and she gave him a hundred rubles. 

He did not recognize her, transformed as she 
was, until she showed him the coin he had 
given her. 

^‘Charity faileth not to bring reward,” he 
said. ‘^Heaven has returned it to me more 
than a thousandfold. May the blessings of 
God rest upon you. ’ ’ 

Arriving at Sarapul, she stopped to visit the 
grave of the missionary. The cross was still 
there with the inscription she had engraved 
on it. She did not now shed tears of sorrow 
over the death of Father Paul, whose life had 
been so full of kindness and self-sacrifice, but 
dropped a tear of consolation, feeling that he 
was at rest in the celestial paradise he had 
dreamed of while on earth. 

As Elizabeth related to Smoloff the events 
of her journey to Moscow tears often came to 
his eyes. This beautiful princess maiden who 
had by accident entered into his life had awak- 
ened the most exalted sentiments of his being, 
and all nature assumed a new aspect. With 
the ardent impetuosity of youth, he was yet 
impelled by his supreme respect for her to de- 
fer the declaration of his feelings until such 
time as prudence dictated. 


TEE POLISH EXILE 


121 


He would wait. And in the forest which she 
loved so well, or on the plain where the moon- 
light shining on the icy landscape first made 
her known to him, he would repeat to her the 
story of his love. 

M. de Smoloff had traveled much; was a 
man of education and military experience. 
Though scarce twenty-five years of age he had 
won the recognition of the Emperor as a man 
of ability and one worthy of high trust. 

He seemed to Elizabeth to be very learned. 
She had met no others like him except her 
father and the Governor of Tobolsk. The peo- 
ple she met on her journey gave her the im- 
pression that opportunity and intelligence are 
very unequally distributed among men. 

There was a scene of joy exhibited at 
Tobolsk when the courier made known his er- 
rand and young Smoloff presented the beauti- 
ful Princess Elizabeth to his father. 

From him Elizabeth learned that her par- 
ents were well, and this information was still 
further confirmed at Saimki. 


CHAPTER XIII 


E LIZABETH’S journey is about to end, 
and therefore this story is near comple- 
tion. Her emotions as she crossed the 
plain and forest, recognizing the familiar trees, 
rocks, and lake, adjacent to her home; the 
fear as she alighted from the carriage lest some 
sudden ill might have befallen her parents; 
her re-entrance to the cottage where the days of 
her absence had been numbered with sorrow 
and anxiety, I will not attempt to describe. 

As she reached the threshold, her father 
opened the door and Elizabeth fell into his 
arms, exhausted with excitement and sus- 
pense. 

The scroll bearing the oflScial testimony of 
the pardon in her hand seemed of less impor- 
tance to her parents than the safe return of 
their child. 

After the excitement caused by the delirium 
of joy had passed, Elizabeth informed her par- 
ents that M. de Smoloff was outside in the 
carriage. He was invited to come in, but de- 
clined, saying that he would call the next day. 
122 


THE POLISH EXILE 


123 


A description of the scenes following Eliza- 
beth ’s return would represent the parents re- 
lating the suspense, apprehension and alarm 
which they suffered during her absence ; Eliza- 
beth rehearsing the perils of her long journey ; 
the blessing invoked by her parents on those 
who had given her assistance; the devoted 
mother exhibiting the lock of hair which Eliza- 
beth had sent by the venerable exile, who had 
related to them Elizabeth's experience and 
hopes of success ; the exhibition of devotion be- 
tween daughter and parents, and at the family 
altar, gratitude for Elizabeth's safe return, 
and blessing on the Emperor for the scroll 
which bore the words that made them free. 

Smoloff became a daily visitor and was re- 
ceived with a cordial welcome which assured 
him that his hopes would not be in vain. 

Elizabeth noted with delight the growing 
friendship between her parents and her lover. 
She had never before heard her father talk 
with such freedom and eloquence. The de- 
jected expression which had overshadowed his 
face in the past had departed. Cheerfulness 
and enthusiasm marked her mother ^s demeanor 
and all were happy. 

The Siberian summer had returned and na- 
ture was chanting her roundelays. 


124 


ELIZABETH 


Elizabeth was now eighteen years of age. 
One afternoon while wandering over familiar 
grounds, she pointed out to Smoloff the rock 
where she sat with map in hand the day she 
had commenced planning for her trip to 
Petersburg. 

They sat down and rehearsed the scenes of 
their early acquaintance. 

Smoloff referred to their meeting in the 
chapel. Elizabeth did not need to be reminded 
of this incident in order to understand the look 
and manner of her lover. The finale of this 
tete-a-tete on the rocks we leave the reader to 
guess. 


CHAPTER XIV 


E lizabeth is restored to her parents; 
she is by them conducted to the place 
of her birth ; reinstated to the rank of 
her ancestors and united in marriage to the 
man of her choice. 

Years pass, the lives of this worthy pair 
were gladdened with joys, such as honor and 
domestic love bestow. 

It is evening; the sun sinking in the west 
casts a glow of splendor over the earth. 

Young Paul, leading his little sister by the 
hand, may be seen meeting in the garden a 
white haired man with keen restless eyes, like 
one who searches for something he cannot find. 
His wife Phedora beside him is still beautiful. 
She caresses the children, remarks to the little 
girl, “Elizabeth, how you remind me of your 
mother. ’ ’ 

She takes her on her knee and tells her of the 
story of her mother ^s life in exile. She turns 
to Paul and relates to him the tale of the good 
125 


126 


ELIZABETH 


missionary whose life went out in service to the 
world. 

Darkness comes; and around the family 
altar Stanislaus prays that the pall of night 
may be lifted from his beloved Poland. 


BD 7. 4"f 














% 

A 



iA 

# 


V J^fJjA 

» j^^fS 1 

-/TS ^ 


* 

4 O 

♦ 1 

tffc XiKmw 

0 




^rv ‘ ° ° " rr. • ’ 

,0 ,•♦»- V v> ,»••-•. o. 


a‘;> o 



« 0 * 

• .0^ ,-». <> V^ 

^M/>)>o U V'.^ 
^v v-^;' ; 




/\ wf^'y% ■ 

‘^=' , 0 ^ '»..' A 

^ 0 o ^ Q V * V- ' « ^ '^Q 0 ® ^ ‘ 



jO vV 

H V . * 

V. A^ »rf^VA' 


c ...PPAbsbros 


C tlBUARy BINOINO 

“%iAM 1977 * 0 ' . 

FLA. O 0 * 

^ * O ^ ° A^ ^ •> I ' * ^ 

^ .< 6 . * 't^ 


<V ^ ^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




